


Sunshine

by LokoteiBex



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Stardust (2007), Tangled (2010)
Genre: AU, F/M, In which Eugene is both a character and the narrator, Minor Character Death, Murder, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Graphic Violence, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Stardust AU, Suggestion of Human Trafficking, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, animal cruelty, discussion of slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokoteiBex/pseuds/LokoteiBex
Summary: A Tangled/Stardust AU using characters from Tangled and settings/situations from Stardust
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Lance Strongbow, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Rapunzel, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Stalyan, King Edmund/Fitzmom (Disney), Rapunzel & Lance Strongbow, Stalyan/Brock Thunderstrike (Disney)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 29





	1. The Story of How I Was Made

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had floating around in my head for years, but until the series came out (and completed), I didn't really have the character list to fill all the roles. But I was watching Stardust the other day, and it just struck me that I could write it now.

_This is the story of how I died. But in order to die, you have to be born. And in order to be born, you have to be…_ **_made_ ** _._

_You see, there was this wall. All along its length it's secure, sturdy, and perfectly ordinary-looking. There's nothing at all interesting about most of the wall. In fact, your eye slides right past it. But there's this one spot where the stone has crumbled away, a gap if you will, and that gap is_ **_intriguing_ ** _. As easy as it is to ignore most of the wall, it's equally impossible to ignore the gap. Which is crazy, right? It's just a hole in a wall that's short enough to hop over, but no one ever tries. No, they always go for the gap. Which is why there's a guard posted there on the Vardaros side, twenty-four hours a day. Yeah, you heard me right. Around the clock guard for a hole. It's been that way for longer than anyone in Vardaros remembers._

_And what's on the other side of the hole? What's so important that it needs twenty-four hour guarding? Well, that's equally crazy, because it's_ **_nothing_ ** _. Literally nothing. Just an empty field of no interest. Except it's_ **_intensely_ ** _interesting, and no one knows why. There's no record at all in Vardaros as to why the gap needs guarding. That's just the way it's always been, and I guess it's the way it'll always be._

_Anyway, twenty-four years ago, someone quick and clever decided to make a break for it and see what was through the gap on the other side of the wall. No, not me. Remember, this is the story - at least, this is the_ **_part_ ** _of the story - of how I was made…_

It was a warm summer evening that found Guenevere heading toward the gap in the wall, not so late that there was no daylight left. The horizon still held that warm golden glow, hugging the light and blending the sky into shades of indigo as the stars began to peek their heads out for the night. She took that as a good sign, an omen. She’d always felt that the sun was somehow lucky, a bringer of fortune. She didn’t really have a plan, just a burning curiosity, and she wanted the sun’s good graces with her. Tonight was the night that she was going to see the other side.

A tall figure, broad in shoulder and heavily mustached stood guard. He held a polearm, but didn’t carry a blade. After all, Vardaros was a sleepy town, and no one there was much of a threat. Gwen smiled to herself. Stan was a pushover. Adding a little extra flounce to her step and sway to her hips, she approached him.

“Good evening, Stan! How’s the gap tonight?”

“Oh, hi there, Gwen!” the big man greeted cheerfully. “All’s quiet!” Quiet was a good thing, even if it also meant boring. Stan was excellent at standing still for long periods of time. He could let his mind wander and have as deep or as meaningless thoughts as he fancied. Fortunately for Guenevere, those thoughts usually leaned on the meaningless side.

“It’s such a nice night,” she cooed as she approached. She swooped down and picked a flower, glancing up at him as her curtain of walnut hair hung over her shoulder. She was not above flirting with the guard to get her way. “Here,” she purred sweetly, tucking the daisy behind his ear. “For all your hard work.”

“Aww, gosh, Gwen. That’s awfully sweet of you,” Stan smiled bashfully. “But, oh hey! If you’re considering going past the gap, could you maybe not? I mean, that’s the whole point of my being here, to keep people from going through.”

And then sometimes Stan was sharp as a tack. Go figure.

“Oh, come on, Stan!” she huffed. “It’s just a field! There’s nothing there that can hurt me! I just want to see it!”

“You can see just fine from there,” he assured her. And it was true. From this vantage, she was looking right through the gap and into the field on the other side. There was a forest that bordered the far side of the field, and in the dying light, she could see a path that made its way into the treeline. Everything in her being wanted to be on that path right now.

“I’ll just pop over for a moment, and be right back!” she assured him, and made a step forward, but Stan quickly shifted and put himself between her and the gap once more.

“I’m sorry, Gwen, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if let you through.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me!” she protested.

“Tell that to the last person who went through,” he answered.

“Oh? Someone’s gone through? And who was that? _When_ was that?”

“I don’t know. It was before my time, because I do my job right,” he answered with a twinkle in his eye.

“Of all the stubborn, pig-headed--” And then she got an idea. A wonderful, simple idea. Yes, _sometimes_ Stan was sharp as a tack, but _most_ of the time…? She gasped and pointed past him, down the road into the village. “What on earth is _that?!_ ” she wondered.

It worked like a charm. “What?” Stan asked, and turned his head away from her, craning his neck to see into the growing shadows.

Gwen began to walk, slowly. “It’s there, I saw it! It looked like it had wings!”

“Maybe an owl? It’s about the right time for them to be coming out.”

She clicked her tongue and kept inching towards the gap. “I don’t know that it was an owl,” she said. “It looked too dark. Perhaps a raven?”

“At this time of night? In Vardaros? We don’t see many ravens around here!”

“Or perhaps a bat?” She was almost there, just a few more feet…

“A _bat?!_ ” Stan shouted. “I hate bats! They get in your hair and suck your blood and give you rabies!”

“Ah, yes, must be a bat, then. A giant, raven-sized bat.”

With that, she used the terror she’d caused in poor Stan as the final distraction to hop through the gap and into the field beyond. She couldn’t be sure why he didn’t follow and pull her out again, other than because he was running around in a panic, having probably forgotten all about her, but it hardly mattered to her. She was on the other side of the wall!

It was quieter here, almost as though that short stack of stone kept the sounds of Vardaros out. Guinevere marched through the grass straight for the road that led into the woods. She’d wanted to be on it, and so be on it she would be. If she thought the wall blocked the sounds of Vardaros, it was nothing compared to how the forest completely enveloped her. Only a few steps in, and it would be hard to tell there was a town nearby at all! It was darker in here, as well, but the forest was thin enough that she could see the well-traveled path through.

So far, everything seemed ordinary, and she didn’t understand why the gap was guarded so protectively. Why were they trying to keep people away from this side of the wall? But she began to understand when she heard the faintest sounds of a tune. It pulled at her soul like nothing she’d ever known, and Gwen found that if she closed her eyes, she could still walk the path blindly, so long as she was following the music. It was thrilling and terrifying, and a part of her wondered if she would ever be able to leave this place again.

Reaching the far end of the woods, she found herself looking at a bazaar or carnival. Some sort of festival seemed to be going on here. The scents that filled the air were heavenly, some sweet, some savory. And somehow they all blended together into a sumptuous feast for the nose, rather than clashing discordantly. Everywhere she looked, lanterns were hung, in all shapes, sizes and colors, and the lights that were cast about caught her eye. And that music she’d heard before? It was clear now. Not only did it tug at her, it made her want to dance, and she could scarcely help the little two-step she did as she gavotted down the road.

Tents and wagons and stalls and awnings lined the path, and voices hawked wares, calling out to her or anyone who would listen. Meats and silks and bangles and trinkets, everywhere she looked. Bottles full of substances that glittered, or liquid that glowed. There were things that were floating or flying under their own power. And she understood.

On this side of the wall, magic was real.

_Hi, me again. Yeah, you can expect me to interrupt the meat of the story every now and then with tidbits of information that might need a bit of explanation._

_The wall from before? It completely divided the village of Vardaros and the rest of the “real world” from the kingdom of Umbra. Or, more specifically, it separated the two realms. Or two universes. Two sides of a veil. Umbra’s not exactly the fairy world, but it is the place where fairies are free to exist and actually…_ **_be_ ** _._

_Some people call Umbra the Dark Kingdom, but that's a bit of a misnomer. It has regular day and night cycles and weather patterns, just like any other place. It has dark and stormy nights, sure, but it's also got crystal clear nights where you can see all the stars, and hazy days where there are more clouds visible than sky. And it's got sunshine._

_Oh boy, does it have sunshine._

_But about that whole “magic is real” thing._

_Magic is always_ **_real_ ** _, wherever you are. But it’s not always real in ways you can perceive. Most of the stuff Gwen is looking at now would simply not exist on the Vardaros side of the wall. It would turn into a mundane counterpart. You see that tea that couple is pedaling? The kind they claim will turn you into a bird? Well, it will._ **_In Umbra_ ** _. In Vardaros, it’s just tea. (And not even particularly good tea, at that. They tend to overbrew it and it gets skunky and just… eugh. Not pleasant.) But there are other things, certain things with such powerful magic within them that even in Vardaros, they can be used, provided you’re close enough to the wall._

_And over there? That yellow wagon with the short, bespectacled woman manning it? Keep an eye out for it. All that stuff is legit. Only the best goes through Calliope’s hands._

The atmosphere of the bazaar was so much fun, and so refreshing from the dull life in Vardaros. Guinevere vowed right then to try to make it back here more often. It couldn’t be that hard to trick Stan over and over, right?

She paused at a yellow wagon, the seller’s wares spread out on a table, and began to look at all the interesting things. An inky black candle, a knife that looked like its blade was made of glass, a large, flawless pearl.

And then her hand bumped into a man’s and she looked up and up further at someone she could only describe as a knight, clad in black armor and a fur cape. She drew her hand back. He looked out of place to her, a moment trapped in time, but his eyes were warm and his smile kind.

“Forgive me,” he said, “I didn’t see you browsing there.”

“Didn’t see me?” she smirked up at him. “I’m not _that_ small, am I?”

He laughed, a big guffawing laugh straight from his belly, and Gwen found herself immediately charmed.

“Perhaps I should phrase it better. I’m a little single-minded tonight, looking for something specific, and I’ve got blinders on.” But he was looking now. Her chestnut eyes gazed up at him with a spark of merriment that was oh so appealing. “I seem to be seeing more clearly,” he murmured. “I’m Edmund.”

“Guenevere,” she answered with a smile and looked back at the wares for sale. “Perhaps you’re looking for something for your lady friend? Or wife, perhaps? Do you need a woman’s discerning eye?”

“Oh, no, I’m not-- I haven’t got a-- No.”

It was her turn to laugh, and not a demure giggle at that. He was adorable, and he was blushing, which made him more adorable. “Tell me what it is you’re looking for. Perhaps I can help.” A tall order, given that she wasn’t from around here, but Guenevere found herself wanting to stay near this man and his flowing brown hair and his--

“Is that a crow on your shoulder?”

She’d mistaken the splay of feathers as part of his cape in the inconsistent light, but now it was stretching out, and was most certainly a living bird.

“Ah, yes! Guinevere, this is Hamuel, my faithful companion. Hamuel, this is Guinevere. You be nice to her. (She’s pretty, and I think she might like me!)”

Gwen was taken aback with bemusement for only a moment. Was he speaking to the crow or out loud to himself? But did it really matter either way? It was an amusing quirk. “Charmed,” she assured both him and Hamuel.

“I’m looking for an amulet of protection,” he answered her at last. “You see, my father is falling ill and, well... my family is just… awful. I’d hate for something to happen to me in the aftermath.”

She frowned at the sentiment. True, she’d only known Edmund a few minutes, but she couldn’t imagine wanting to hurt him outright! “Sounds brutal,” she mused. “I’m not going to pretend my family is worse than that. At best, they’re pretty boring, which is why I’m here.”

“Oh? Where do you come from?”

“Vardaros, on the other side of the wall.”

This gave Edmund pause. He looked down at Gwen and nodded. “You’re very brave to come here.”

“I appreciate that, but can I ask why?” she mused. “I mean, I get that magic is _magic_ here, but what about that makes me brave?”

“Umbra isn’t safe for even the most prepared of people. But people from the other side of the wall, who don’t know how it works? It’s practically a death trap.”

“I’m not afraid,” she assured him.

“Then like I said, you’re very brave. (Either that or she’s very foolish!)”

Another start, and then Gwen burst out laughing. “Perhaps a bit of both!” she agreed through her mirth. “But I know you’ll protect me so long as I’m here.”

“Excuse me, did I hear you say you were looking for an _amulet?_ ”

Both turned to find a short woman with large eyes made to look larger through the lenses of her glasses peering at them from over the table. “Because I have several amulets! I just don’t keep them out on the table where sticky fingers might find them.”

“Er, yes! May we see them? That would be most helpful!” Edmund said.

“You know,” the woman said as she turned to rummage through the wagon, “amulet comes from Latin _amuletum_ , which means, ‘thing worn superstitiously as a charm against spells, disease, etc.’ Of course, we all know that there’s nothing superstitious about _these_ .” She brought back a wooden box and smirked at them. “At least, not _my_ amulets. You’ll find nothing but quality here. Every artifact I carry is thoroughly vetted.”

She opened the box, revealing an array of necklaces. Each amulet was as different from its neighbors as could be. Some were made of gold with intricate designs pressed into the metal. One was several iron circles bound together, slightly rusted. But one stood out to Guenevere. It was a simple crystal, strikingly purple, bound at the top and hung on a cord.

“Oh!” she breathed, and reached out to take it, but Calliope pulled the box just out of reach.

“The lady has excellent taste!” she smirked. “But you don’t get to touch these until they’re paid for.”

“You like that one?” Edmund asked sincerely, his whiskey-colored eyes smiling.

“I do,” Gwen answered honestly.

“Then it’s yours.” He began to reach into his belt pouch, but she put a hand on his arm.

“Wait! Are you sure? Don’t you need one for you? Because of your family?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I’m the best fighter of us all. Also the biggest,” he added with a wink. “Besides, you said you knew I’d protect you. This is how I’m choosing to do it!” He reached into his belt pouch again and produced a flat stone, inky black, and with a rune carved on it that Gwen didn’t recognize: a circle with three lines running through it. When the light hit it just right, vibrant blue lines flashed across the shiny surface.

The shopkeeper gasped, all measure of superiority gone. “Is that… the _Mind Trap?_ Where did you get that?!”

“It’s been passed down through my family for generations,” Edmund answered simply, and Calliope’s eyes went wide, then narrowed in suspicion.

“Are you telling me you’re…?”

“I am.”

“Ha! A likely story. Prove it.” Edmund fixed her with a stony gaze and she shrugged. “I have to vett my artifacts, right? It’s not a sale until I know that rock’s legit.”

With a sigh, Edmund removed his left gauntlet. On the back of his hand was the same rune that was etched into the stone. Calliope practically did a happy dance as she snatched the Mind Trap from the table. “The Keeper’s going to be thrilled about this!” she cheered to herself.

“Excuse me, the amulet?” Edmund reminded her.

“Oh, right.” She fetched the purple crystal and pressed it into Edmund’s still-bare hand. “Nice doing business with you!”

The crystal caught the light and sparkled, and Gwen felt her breath catch again as she looked at it. “For you, my dear,” he said gently. “May I?”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” She turned her back to him and moved her hair so that he was able to clasp the charm around her neck. It hung nicely just at her decolletage, and she wondered if he’d been aware it would do so. It certainly did draw the eye. “Edmund, you really didn’t have to,” she assured him.

“Nonsense! I wanted to!”

“Then let me repay you. You gave away a family heirloom to get it, and you barely know me! There’s got to be something I can do for you in return.”

“The pleasure of your company before you return to the wall would be most welcome,” he assured her, and offered his arm.

She looked discerningly at him, then took his arm with a little smile. “You know, I can’t just be bought,” she mused.

“Who’s trying to buy you? (She’s far too suspicious of my intentions!)”

“I am not,” she snorted, and playfully smacked his arm. Maybe there was a benefit to him thinking his thoughts out loud. At least she could tell when he was being insincere!

“Then just accept the gift, Guenevere.”

“Call me Gwen. People who are close to me do, and I’d say this little trinket at least marks us as friends.”

“I would like to be more than friends with you, Gwen. But only if it’s something you think you’d like, too. Even if we were to part ways after tonight, never to see each other again, I think I’d always remember you.”

She tried to roll her eyes. Tried to think, _And here it is, this is what the necklace was about_. But she just… couldn’t. There was not an unearnest bone in Edmund’s body, and she could just tell he was absolutely sincere. And, if she were honest with herself, she felt the same way. It wasn’t just the warm summer breeze , or the excitement of being beyond the wall. It wasn’t the heady music in the air or the tantalizing scents that still followed her around. It was just… Edmund.

“Come on,” she murmured with a coy little smile. “I think I know a way to repay you.”

She led him away from the fair, back up the road to the woods, but as soon as the trees enveloped the sounds of the crowd and nothing but those slight, enticing strains could be heard, she tugged him off the beaten path.

He followed willingly, but couldn’t help a chuckle. “Where are we going?” he wondered.

“I want to give you something you’ll never forget. Even if, as you say, we were to part ways after tonight, never to see each other again.”

She had his back against a tree in an instant, her lips and body pressed to his, and Edmund understood entirely. He had the decency to tell his crow to find something else to do for a while. They kept their voices low, let their bodies do the talking. Prayers of each other’s names were whispered to the trees, and neither regretted a moment of this decision. And after, as they lay in the leaf litter with his fur cape spread beneath them, Guenevere knew that a part of her would never leave this place.

It was past midnight when she found herself once again in the field, looking at the wall from the Umbra side. Edmund stood beside and just behind her.

“You could stay,” he suggested gently, not for the first time that night.

“Not without going home, first.” She turned to face him, and his arms were instantly around her. “But I’ll come back. I’ll see you again, I swear it.”

He pressed something into her hand, then. It was a black candle, like the one she’d seen on the table in front of the yellow wagon where he’d bought her the protective amulet. “It’s a Neserdnian candle,” he explained. “Think of me, and nothing but me, and light it, and it will bring you right to me, wherever I am.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips and turned away without another word, walking across the field and back through the gap with a cheerful, “Evening, Stan!” as she did.

_And here’s the part where I get to tell you that Gwen was true to her word. In fact, six weeks later she managed to distract Stan long enough to pass back through the gap with a small packed bag and some big news for Edmund. And about eight months after_ **_that_ ** _, they returned together to the wall for the last time, leaving behind a basket and a note that was wrapped around a small package._

_I’ll give you a hint: I was in that basket._

_It was found by the man currently guarding the gap, one Captain Quaid, who took me home and pondered for a few days about whether or not he’d be a fit enough parent to keep me as his own. In the end, he decided he wouldn’t be, and turned me over to the Vardaros orphanage. But he kept the note and package, not out of malice, but because he knew he could trust himself to deliver it to me when it was time._

_And that time was coming soon._


	2. The Story of How I Decided to Cross the Gap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are stories about those things, you know. They say that when a Sundrop hits the earth, a miracle happens. Miracles aren’t always good things, though. Some say the polar ice caps were formed by Sundrops. And legends say that the last Sundrop to strike the earth was absorbed by the ground and grew into a magical flower that had the power to restore life and health to any who consumed its heart. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’ve heard of artichoke hearts, right? Plants can have hearts!
> 
> Unfortunately for legend-lovers everywhere, though, we’re not talking about plant hearts. Because Sundrops aren’t liquid. They don’t make ice caps (unless they cause a nuclear winter, but that’s another story altogether), and they don’t grow flowers. Not unless they pick up a hoe and a watering can.
> 
> Because what most people don’t realize is that Sundrops are people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, Chapter 2, out so soon! Enjoy!

_Remember how the last chapter started twenty-four years ago? Well this chapter starts now. Captain Quaid had turned in the foundling with the name Eugene Fitzherbert - he has terrible taste in names - with no knowledge of who the parents were. He had his suspicions, but couldn’t be sure, since Guenevere had vanished from Vardaros without a trace. Stan had reported about her crossing over the first time, but I think he was too embarrassed to mention the second time. And at any rate, she’d been gone the better part of a year when I’d shown up in that basket._

_So, I was officially classified as an orphan, and grew up in the orphanage. I’d like to say it wasn’t so bad, but let’s be real; orphanages aren’t great places to grow up. There’s not enough funding and there’s too many mouths to feed. The kids are lucky if they get a proper education, and luckier if they can land a job easily as soon as they’re turned out on the day they reach majority._

_Well, that had happened to me five years ago. I reached 18, and got the ol’, “Thanks for growing up here, out you go! Good luck in the real world! By the way, happy birthday!” Only, it wasn’t my birthday. Not officially, at least. See, the note that came with me didn’t have a birthdate on it, and so they had to guess. Anyway, eighteen years after I’d shown up, I was kicked out. Lucky me._

_But do you know what_ **_was_ ** _fortunate? Quaid had kept an eye on me that whole time. He kept me out of trouble - at least, major trouble - as a kid, and offered to train me to be a guard once I was on my own, but I was not about to take a job standing in front of a hole in a wall, no matter how well it paid. That stuff’s_ **_boring_ ** _, and I craved adventure._

_I found it in the prettiest girl in town, one Stalyan Barone. Of course, the most exciting thing about her might have been that her father was the most powerful man in Vardaros, and also hated my guts. Not a bad combination to get the blood pumping. I think she must have found it exciting, too, because while she never exactly agreed to be mine, she never really discouraged my wooing, either._

_For two years, I barely scraped by, focusing all my energy and attention on Stalyan, but eventually I began to realize that what she_ **_really_ ** _liked was extravagant gifts, and that I’d never be able to afford to get them for her without a job._

_So I went back to Quaid and begged his help. Nope! Still wasn’t going to be a guard! But I asked him to keep an eye and ear out for me for anyone who needed help. It turned out that Feldspar Wilipeg, the cobbler, was open to getting an apprentice and surprisingly, I was not terrible at cobbling shoes!_

_So that’s how I found myself three years later, a 23-year-old orphan, apprentice cobbler, still craving adventure, and hopelessly in love with a girl who - let’s be honest - didn’t love me back. But at least I could fix her boots._

Summer in Vardaros was possibly the worst season. It was dreadfully muggy, even when it wasn’t that hot, and everyone began to bring their fall and winter boots into Feldspar’s for mending, in the hopes that thinking about cooler weather would make it more bearable. Eugene was up to his ears in work on a daily basis, which was good for his bank account, but not so good for his social life. Stalyan’s birthday was fast approaching, and he was hoping to make some grand gesture that would win her over for good. He’d been saving for just that purpose.

Last night, in fact, he’d attempted to court her, and had been struck down - _literally!_ \- by another fellow in town who had been somewhat more successful in wooing her: Brock Thunderstrike. Eugene envied him his name. It didn’t seem like it could be _real_. If Eugene could have chosen his own name, it would have been Flynn Rider. Sure, he'd borrowed the name - with his own personal flair - from his favorite literary character, but with the confidence of that name backing him, he’d have made a better place for himself in the world than an apprentice cobbler.

“Eugene, are those boots done?” Feldspar asked.

“Almost,” Eugene assured him, and finished tacking a heel in place.

Just then, the shop bell rang, and Eugene looked up to see Stalyan in all her beautiful, angelic glory. She took one look at the pile of shoes next to him and turned on her most brilliant smile. “Eugene, if you’re not too busy, I have a rush job for you,” she purred.

“If I’m not… _too busy?_ ” he asked, looking at the pile next to him as well. He’d been too busy for _days!_

Stalyan waited, keeping her gaze fixed on him, her eyebrow quirking just the slightest bit. There was promise in those eyes. A promise of a better tomorrow if he complied today.

“Um, no, I’m not too busy,” he assured her meekly.

He completely missed the look Feldspar fixed him with.

“A rush job?” he echoed. “When do you need them by?”

“Tonight,” Stalyan told him. “I want to wear them tomorrow. And you can give me a discount, right?”

This was his chance. His big chance to tell her that that was too soon, that he couldn’t get it done by then, because there were other paying clients. He could win her respect by standing up to her demands.

On the other hand, if he did exactly what she wanted, she’d be more inclined to keep him around. Right?

“By tonight. At a discount,” he repeated obediently. “And hey, maybe you’d like to join me for a stroll when I bring them by?”

“Maybe!” she agreed with a batting of her eyelashes. “Thanks Eugene, you’re a sweetheart!” She pinched his nose and patted his cheek, and Eugene felt like he was walking on air. “Bye…” she purred, making sure to add extra hip sway as she walked out the door.

Only after it closed behind her, did he feel the intensity of Feldspar’s look.

“You’re lucky the Barones are our best customers,” he chastised. “You can’t keep putting off everyone in town because of that girl! I don’t _care_ how powerful her father is, she’s a twerp! Finish those shoes of hers, then get back to work! You’re staying late tonight. It’s not like you have a real chance with her, you know. Not with that Brock around.”

It was far too late, by the time Eugene found himself wandering down the streets to deliver Stalyan’s boots, to take her for a stroll that evening, but he supposed that was the price he had to pay to win her favor. Good for his bank account, bad for his social life. He was concerned that perhaps it would be one of her father’s hired hands who would answer the door, but fortune smiled on him, at least this once.

Well, twice. Stalyan was in her nightdress and a robe, and he was reminded of at least part of why he pursued her so doggedly as a loose sleeve slid off her shoulder.

“You’re late,” she said curtly.

“Feldspar kept me. To make up for putting you first in the queue,” he answered, hoping to garner a little sympathy and show that putting her first had consequences for him. For them.

She rolled her eyes with a scoff, then smiled. “Feldspar’s such an old fuddy duddy,” she informed him. “He just doesn’t _get_ us, does he?”

“No,” Eugene smiled softly, thrilled that there was an ‘us’ to get. “Look, I know it’s late, but tomorrow the shop closes early. Can I take you out then?”

She pursed her lips, hesitating.

“ _Please_ ,” he added. “I’ve got a birthday surprise for you.”

Her pinched expression became a delighted smile. “It’s not my birthday for another week!”

“I know. I was hoping to beat the crowd,” he admitted.

She laughed, and he wasn’t sure if it was mirth or mockery that she’d laced it with. “Oh, alright. Since you’ve got a birthday surprise for me, I can’t really say ‘no,’ can I?”

Impetuously, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, half expecting to be struck for it, but she only gasped coquettishly. “Eugene Fitzherbert, so _bold!_ ” she breathed. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Eight o’clock sharp! Don’t be late, this time! I’m not going to wait up for you!”

“As my fairest lady wishes!” he said with a bow.

“And stop quoting that book at me!”

Eugene kept his head low and his nose to the grindstone the next day, trying to make up for his misstep the day before. After work, he took all that saved-up money and put it to good use, buying a sumptuous feast for Stalyan, including champagne, fine meat and cheeses, and delectable fruits. He also bought a new quilt to spread on the grass that wouldn’t offend her skin with itchiness. He kept the meal safely in a basket and, watched by a flock of ravens, he arranged several candles in a sapling. There didn’t need to be shade for this picnic, since this was happening at night. From this vantage on the hill, there was a fantastic view of the wall and the countryside beyond it.

Eugene had always wondered about that place beyond the wall. As a kid, he liked to imagine that his parents were there, having adventures, and that someday, they’d come back to Vardaros to claim him.

And they’d have a really cool name waiting for him.

At eight o’clock sharp, he knocked on the door of the Barone manor. Luck was not with him tonight, and he hoped it wasn’t a bad sign, that the man who answered the door only had one good eye and a ghastly crooked-toothed grimace of a smile.

“What do you want?” he asked Eugene brusquely.

“I- I’m here to pick up Stalyan. She said she’d let me take her out tonight.”

“Back off, Weasel. He’s got a birthday surprise for me,” Stalyan’s voice rang out, and the hook-nosed man stepped out of the way to make way for the light of Eugene’s life. She offered Eugene a simpering smile and stepped out to take his arm, as excited as a nearly-birthday girl could be. “What is it? What’s my surprise?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

In high summer, eight o’clock still saw sunlight hugging the horizon, its golden glow spreading a warmth throughout Eugene. He’d always liked the sun. It gave him hope for better times to come. He liked to think of it as lucky.

When they came across the picnic spot, he led her to the plush blanket and sat beside her before lighting the candles and arranging the spread for her choosing.

“Eugene, all of this must have cost you a month’s salary, at least!” she exclaimed.

“At least!” he agreed, knowing it was more, and popped the cork on the bottle of champagne to pour her a glass. “And it’s all for you, Stalyan.”

She took a sip, appreciating the quality of the drink, and her eyes raked over it all. “I’d say it’s too much, but… well, it’s not. It’s for me. I can’t complain.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can always make more money. I’m not going to cobble shoes forever, you know.”

“You’re not? Then who’s going to fix my boots when the heels break?”

“I’ll always fix your boots, Stalyan,” he chuckled. “But there’s so much more out there in the world. Travel, adventure, fortune…”

“You know, Brock says the same thing,” she mused. “He’s been all over, from Quintonia and back again! In fact, right now, he’s on his way to Pincosta to get me a ring.”

Eugene chuckled at that. Pincosta? Pincosta was nothing. He wasn’t talking about Pincosta. “Traveling to Pincosta isn’t traveling!” he pointed out. “I’m talking about going to Italy, or maybe Maldonia! Not to-- wait.” His smile dropped away and dread filled him. “A ring? Why is he buying you a ring? He’s not going to propose, is he?”

“Well, I don’t know if he intends to _propose_ ,” she preened. “But he did tell me he’s coming back with the Eye of Pincosta or not at all. And I couldn’t say ‘no’ to a ruby that size.”

“Yes you could!” Eugene squawked. “It’s a really simple, short word! You just said it right now!” A mixture of despair and rage filled him, and he didn’t know which one to focus on. “Why _him?_ What does Brock have that I don’t?”

“A mustache.”

“Stalyan, _I could grow a mustache!_ ” he pointed out.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’d look terrible with a mustache.”

Eugene’s lip twitched. It was no secret that everyone in Vardaros thought he and Brock looked exactly alike, save that thin mustache that decorated Brock’s upper lip. The joke was that they were separated at birth, and the only thing proving them wrong was that Brock was three years older and knew when his birthday was.

_Okay, I’m going to have to interrupt the *ahem* lover’s spat. (For one thing, I gotta be honest, it’s making me really uncomfortable to relive that. Like second-hand embarrassment, only worse, because it was first-hand embarrassment, once upon a time.) Luckily for me, I have the perfect distraction right here!_

_At the same moment as this… horrific display was going on, something much more interesting was happening in Umbra. King Edmund - that’s right,_ **_King_ ** _Edmund - had had enough. You see, after Guenevere had returned to him and told him she was pregnant with his child, they were wed. And that made it all the more important for him to win the battle with the Brotherhood to take on the throne of Umbra. _

_The thing is, Edmund’s “family” - the awful one he mentioned in the last chapter - weren’t all blood relatives. The Dark Crown of Umbra didn’t always get passed to the next of kin. What happened was, when the king died, his blood heirs and his honor guard, known as the Brotherhood, were all contenders for the throne. Kind of a democratic monarchy, if you think about it. Only instead of voting… they preferred bloodshed._

_Once Edmund had a new bride at his side and a child on the way, something was unleashed in him. He was brutal, if I’m quite honest, and he dispatched his father’s Brotherhood and his own siblings, in order to be sure that his future child had a father. He even lost his right arm in the fight for the crown. That all came to naught when he realized that his infant child wasn’t safe there. It’s far easier to kill a baby than a grown warrior, and neither Edmund nor Gwen wanted to risk that happening to their new son. So they wrapped him in blankets and left him at the wall with a few gifts that would help bring him home when he was good and ready._

_In the meantime, though, Edmund arranged his own Brotherhood, and now, after over twenty years, he was growing tired of seeing his chosen family constantly eyeing each other, waiting for the moment to strike. After all, everyone who was dead before the current king died was automatically out of the running. Unfortunately for them, killing members of the Brotherhood would only see those members replaced, so they had to bide their time and plot their moves for sometime in the future. And King Edmund was tired of it. He was ready to retire and live peacefully with his wife, out of harm’s way._

“I know it’s unconventional,” Edmund explained to his Brotherhood, “but it’s not unheard of. I want to step down as King of Umbra. One of you three can take on the role.”

He sat upon his throne, a dark chair made of mirror-smooth black rock. At his left, a stone sphere hovered, rotating gently as though pushed by a current, and within that stone sphere, a shining gem sat, floating and emanating a bluish white light.

“But how will you decide who is to rule next?” Adira asked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to rule, herself, but she’d be damned if she let one of the others kill her off.

“The same way every king has been chosen, when there’s more than one contender.”

He reached toward the hovering sphere, and the stone lattice work retracted, allowing him to take hold of the gem inside. “I hereby relinquish the throne to whosoever, of blood or Brotherhood, finds the Moonstone first and brings it back to me.”

Opening his hand, the Moonstone floated above his palm, and then the light started to fade. As it did, the sparkle left its surface, as did most of the color, until it was nothing more than a pale, dull version of what it had been only a moment before.

And then, it flew through the air, quick as could be, out the window and up into the sky, well beyond the Brotherhood’s reach.

“Well, now what are we supposed to do?” the youngest of the three, a willowy man named Hector asked.

But the show was not over yet.

_Once upon a time, a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens. In fact, it’s done it before. The last time it did it was four hundred years ago. And it’ll probably do it again. But this time, it’s happening right now, if you’d be so kind as to watch the evening sky, and that last bit of sunlight hugging the horizon that was mentioned earlier._

_The Moonstone flew as though it had a mind of its own, towards the horizon and that clinging line of gold. And then, it collided with the actual sun, if you can believe it! And it dislodged one of those precious drops of sunlight!_

_There are stories about those things, you know. They say that when a Sundrop hits the earth, a miracle happens. Miracles aren’t always good things, though. Some say the polar ice caps were formed by Sundrops. And legends say that the last Sundrop to strike the earth was absorbed by the ground and grew into a magical flower that had the power to restore life and health to any who consumed its heart. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’ve heard of artichoke hearts, right? Plants can have hearts!_

_Unfortunately for legend-lovers everywhere, though, we’re not talking about plant hearts. Because Sundrops aren’t liquid. They don’t make ice caps (unless they cause a nuclear winter, but that’s another story altogether), and they don’t grow flowers. Not unless they pick up a hoe and a watering can._

_Because what most people don’t realize is that Sundrops are_ **_people_ ** _. And people (like some plants) have hearts. And I regret to inform you that the part about eating a Sundrop’s heart restoring life and health is true, because the one that was just dislodged by the Moonstone is going to be in grave danger once people realize she’s fallen._

_But to the casual observer - say a not-so-romantically inclined duo sitting on a blanket watching the sky from the Vardaros side of the wall - a falling Sundrop doesn’t look like a person. In fact, it resembles a falling star, only far more golden and ten times brighter._

“Eugene, look!” Stalyan gasped.

He wasn’t sure if it was a rare moment of vulnerable intimacy, or if she was just surprised by the golden streak of light arching away from the western horizon and towards the distant forest.

“Make a wish,” he suggested with a small smile.

“You don’t wish on Sundrops, stupid,” she scoffed.

He frowned. He never liked being called stupid, least of all by her.

“If I had a Sundrop of my own, I’d be the richest queen in the land,” she mused. “The value of that thing is enough to buy and sell a whole country.”

A thought struck Eugene, and he sat up straight. “Do you want it more than, saaaaay… the Eye of Pincosta?”

Stalyan gave him a side-eye, then smiled coyly. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“I go and get the Sundrop and bring it back to you, and you marry me and not Brock,” he proposed plainly.

“Go and get it? Across the wall? All the way into who knows what godforsaken wilderness?”

“Yes, all of that.”

“You can’t just cross the wall. _No one_ crosses the wall,” she pointed out.

“I will,” he insisted. “I’ll do that for you.”

Stalyan thought for a moment, then raised her glass to him. “Alright then, Eugene. You bring the Sundrop back to me by my birthday, and I’ll marry you. If you don’t, I marry Brock.”

“Deal!” he agreed hurriedly, and chimed his glass against hers before kicking back the rest of the champagne in it. Not bad for an off-the-cuff proposal! She wouldn’t be calling him stupid by the time he got back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: Eugene is difficult to write when he's in love with Stalyan. I feel like he's OOC, but then I genuinely believe that he did not act like himself when he was dating her in canon.
> 
> For the purposes of this story, I steered her personality more towards Victoria's from "Stardust" and away from her own canon personality.
> 
> Also, did you catch the joke with Brock? I officially headcanon his age as being three years older than Eugene, which would make him the age that the fandom thought Eugene was in the movie for the longest time.


	3. The Story of How I Got the Sundrop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene hesitated a moment longer, trying to decide what to go for first. In the end, he chose the letter, assuming it would explain something about what was in the box. It weighed more than he thought a letter might, and when he unrolled the parchment, he found an inky black candle tucked away inside. He set it aside for now, so he could read out loud.
> 
> My dearest son Horace...
> 
> “Horace?!” Eugene squawked. “They named me Horace?!”
> 
> Quaid chuckled as he took a seat at the table. “Still hate the name ‘Eugene’?” he jabbed.
> 
> “Yes, ‘Eugene’ is terrible, thank you.” Clearing his throat, he began again.

_It’s a long way between the heavens and earth, and the Sundrop had quite a ways to travel across the sky before she landed. During her journey, she was spotted by many, most of whom thought she was just a pretty sight. But one of those people knew exactly what she was, and exactly what she was worth. Remember that, because that’s going to be important soon._

_She fell, blazing like a golden comet. But the thing about this Sundrop in particular: that thing that looks like a comet’s tail? That’s her hair. She’s got a lot of it. I mean a_ **_lot_ ** _. We're talking enough to make even the most open-minded person doubletake. The closer to the ground she got, the brighter her hair glowed, until it was suddenly wrapping around her, protecting her from the oncoming impact. She landed in a forest, the ground erupting around her and levelling the trees, setting them ablaze. Even the toughest shield can’t protect you from_ **_it_ ** _hitting you, though, and so the Sundrop lay in the crater her landing had caused, in a pile of her own hair, battered and bruised and unaware of just how much danger she was in._

_Beside her lay the Moonstone, the pesky gem that had knocked her out of the sky, and as the air around her cooled from her passing, the glow around her faded enough that mortal man could gaze at her (not that there was anyone around to look just now). If you weren’t expecting the Sundrop to be a young woman, you probably weren’t expecting a_ **_beautiful_ ** _young woman, at that._

_On the outskirts of Umbra, housed in a mansion made from a giant seashell, an old woman hurried in, summoning her siblings. (See? I told you she’d be important.)_

“Tromus! Sugracha!”

The woman hobbled at as rapid a clip as her old joints would allow her. To the untrained eye, she was ancient. To the trained one, she was ancient _again_. Her skin was ashen with age, her teeth yellowed, and hair that was once plush and thick now hung in scraggly wisps from a mostly-bald head. Her maroon gown, which once hugged curves, now hung off a bony frame.

Two equally ancient people, sound asleep on a bed barely large enough for them both, were roused by her cries. The man cracked his eyes open, scowling at her.

“What is it, Gothel?” he wondered crankily. They had nothing better to do than sleep and save their energy for now.

“A single drop of sunlight has fallen from the heavens,” Gothel answered with breathless excitement.

The others were wide awake now.

As a group, they hurried to their stores, eager to retrieve the Sundrop. Gothel flung the cupboard doors open, but her smile fell almost immediately.

“Where are the Neserdnian candles?” she wondered.

Her sister sighed from behind her. “You used the last one two hundred years ago, dearie.”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to fetch another,” their brother suggested

Gothel rolled her eyes and shot a look at him. “You used to be far more clever than that, Tromus,” she scoffed. “You can’t just… _go and fetch_ Neserdnian candles. They aren’t at the local market.”

“I know that,” he scowled. “I was merely trying to suggest--”

“That we spend all our precious time scrambling around for a single Neserdnian candle while some other witch gets _our_ Sundrop? You’re as foolish as you are old. We’ll fetch the Sundrop on foot, if we must.” She marched away from the cupboard, and the other two followed close behind. “We need more information about its whereabouts. I’m not going to run higgly piggly all over the countryside, going in the wrong direction.”

The third sibling, Sugracha, shuffled over to where they held cages of animals. Goats and monkeys and seals, chameleons, raccoons, even dogs with glowing eyes. She snatched a chameleon from its cage, and the thing’s baby squeaked in alarm, clinging futilely to her. He was flicked unceremoniously back into his cage, and the adult was brought to their scrying table. In Sugracha's haste, however, she didn’t secure the lid of the terrarium, and the baby climbed up to squeeze through the open space and escape the same fate as his mother.

Sugracha slammed the chameleon down and sliced her open without a moment of hesitation. As one, the three decrepit siblings leaned over to read the entrails for divination. 

“Hmm,” Gothel remarked blandly. “If these dinivantions are correct, the Sundrop is a hundred miles away.”

They leaned back, thinking about the situation and rationalizing the trip. “We have waited for four hundred years,” Tromus pointed out. “A few more days is hardly a problem.”

“Then which of us will go out into the world and bring it back?” Sugracha wondered.

The three huddled over the table again, looking once more at the chameleon’s entrails, only this time, their goal was the organs. They all closed their eyes and reached down together, but Gothel peeked to be sure she would select the choicest.

Drawing their hands back, they revealed their selections.

“I’ve got the kidney,” Sugracha announced.

“I have the liver,” Tromus followed.

“Well, look at that. I have the heart,” Gothel smirked. Having won the draw, even if by cheating, she knew what this meant, and her spirits rose even further.

“I suppose what’s left of the last Sundrop is yours, then, or you’ll never make the trip,” Tromus reasoned.

In a place of honor, a dark box sat. On its lid was the sharp-featured face of a demon with goats horns, and despite the hundreds of years of dust that covered the box, the carved eyes glowed green. They each put out a hand and touched the lid, and when all were making contact, it sprung open, revealing barely a mouthful of glowing golden Sundrop heart.

Gothel greedily took the morsel, though it tried to evade her grasp in the box, and brought it before their full length mirror before swallowing it whole. She wanted to witness the transformation with her own eyes. The effects were immediate. The age melted off of her, as though shaking off a sheer sheet. Where once there were folds of age, there was now firm, lifted skin. Where once there was scraggly baldness, a full head of shiny black curls fell. Her smile? Perfect. Her figure? _Perfect!_ And oh, she could feel the youth and energy flowing through her! And the icing on the cake was that she looked like _this_ , and her siblings still looked like _that!_

So sue her for disrobing and taking a minute or two to examine every perfect inch of her restored body.

_That was gross. I’m sorry you had to watch that. Let’s go watch something more interesting now. Namely: me!_

_Back in Vardaros, I was having to come to terms with the fact that I was ill-prepared for the quest I’d just assigned myself. I hadn’t even bothered to clean up the remains of the picnic, leaving the whole thing for the ants and ravens, and anyone who wanted a nice, new quilt, and marched my fool head towards the wall._

_Ever since I was a kid, the gap was guarded by two people, but everyone in town who was decently older than me said they remembered a time when it was only one. I never did find out what about that had changed._

_Good ol’ Stan was on guard tonight, as was Pete, who wasn’t much older than me. Okay, he was older_ **_enough_ ** _. He was still a kid when the second guard was established, though._

“Good evening, fellas!” Eugene greeted the two guards jovially. He was good enough friends with them that he wasn’t at all suspicious, coming to the wall this late at night.

“Heeey, Eugene the Fiend!” Stan greeted back, grinning broadly behind his mustache. “What can we do for you this fine night?”

“Well, you know, it’s the funniest thing! I was picnicking with Stalyan on the hill--”

“Wait, _you_ were picnicking with Stalyan?” Pete asked. “Stalyan Barone?”

“That’s right, and I--”

“Are you sure it was you, and not Brock Thunderstrike?” Pete went on, starting to grin. Stan chuckled behind his hand, and Eugene glared at him.

“ _Yes_ , I’m _sure_ ,” he said, but didn’t get any farther before Pete started up again.

“Maybe it _was_ Brock, but he _shaved_ tonight, and you got confused!” he guffawed. And now Stan wasn’t holding back his laughter either.

“Ha ha. _Muy hilarioso_. If I could just--!”

“Get it?” Pete asked Stan, who was nearly doubled over with laughter at this point. “Because they look exactly alike!”

“I do!” Stan agreed jovially. “I get it!”

Normally, now would be the perfect opportunity to just slip past them and through the hole in the wall, but they were holding each other upright and completely blocking the way through. There was no squeezing past.

Grumbling, Eugene turned on his heel and headed back into town. There just had to be a way to get beyond the wall! And if anyone had any answers, it would probably be good ol’ Captain Quaid.

“Go away.”

Quaid’s gravelly voice gave a final answer from behind his door, but fortunately for Eugene, he knew better than to give up after the first try.

“Aww, come on Captain!” he all but begged, hammering on the old man’s door. “I just have a few questions about… about the night I was found!”

Okay, so it wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie, either. Eugene remembered Quaid mentioning something once when he was a boy, then backpedaling and saying he’d tell him ‘when it was time.’ Well, now seemed ‘time’ to Eugene.

The door creaked open, and Quaid looked him up and down. “How old are you now, boy?”

“Twenty-three,” Eugene answered plainly, and Quaid sighed.

“That’s old enough, I suppose. Come on it.”

He didn’t open the door wider, but he didn’t block it anymore, either, and Eugene pushed it open himself and entered the small house. Quaid had retired some time ago, and now he kept bees. Was obsessed with them, Eugene would guess, given the very bee-centric decorating scheme going on in here.

He was so distracted by the dishes with honeycomb patterns and bee-shaped suncatchers and kitschy beehive salt and pepper shakers that he didn’t really realize Quaid wasn’t in the room with him anymore until a small thud announced his return and his dropping something on the table. Eugene turned to look.

“This was left in your basket on the night you were dropped off,” he informed him, pushing the small parcel and letter towards Eugene.

Time seemed to stand still. Before him was the only clue as to who his parents were, and what had happened to them. And judging by the small package, there was a keepsake to go with it! He was just staring, as if he could discern the contents of the letter and the box just by looking at them, without opening them.

“Well? I’ve waited twenty-three years to find out what that’s all about. Are you gonna keep me waiting another twenty-three?”

“Ahh, no. Sorry.”

Eugene hesitated a moment longer, trying to decide what to go for first. In the end, he chose the letter, assuming it would explain something about what was in the box. It weighed more than he thought a letter might, and when he unrolled the parchment, he found an inky black candle tucked away inside. He set it aside for now, so he could read out loud.

_My dearest son Horace..._

“ _Horace?!_ ” Eugene squawked. “They named me _Horace?!_ ”

Quaid chuckled as he took a seat at the table. “Still hate the name ‘Eugene’?” he jabbed.

“ _Yes_ , ‘Eugene’ is terrible, _thank you_.” Clearing his throat, he began again.

_My dearest son Horace,_

_Please know that your father and I only ever wanted what’s best for you. The circumstances of your birth were such that keeping you here with us would have cost you your life. It was better to be parted and have you live, so you might find us again one day, than to have you stay and be killed._

_With you, we sent two gifts: The first is a protective amulet your father bought for me at our first meeting. Wear it close to your heart. The second is a Neserdnian candle._

_Our dearest wish is that we might meet someday. The fastest way to travel is by candlelight. To use it, think of me and only of me, doing so as you light it. And I will think of you every day for always._

_With all my love,_

_Your mother_

Eugene wasn’t sure when his eyes had begun to swim with tears, but as he blinked after reading the last bit, a tear fell onto the parchment. Blinking rapidly, he wiped it away so the ink wouldn’t have a chance to run, then turned his attention to the box. Opening it, he found a flawless purple crystal on a cord. He slipped it over his head and tucked it under his shirt. Then, he turned his attention to the black candle on the table.

“I don’t know, boy. It sounds like magic,” Quaid cautioned. “You shouldn’t meddle with that stuff.”

“There’s no such thing as magic,” Eugene answered, but his eyes never left the pillar of wax. _But what if…?_ This letter said his parents wanted him, _loved_ him! And if magic was real? What better way to use it then to find them?

_Well, to get to the Sundrop, of course!_

Conflicted, he looked over at Quaid. “Have you got a light?” he asked.

Still wary of the whole thing, the old Captain struck a match and held it up to the candlewick. For a few seconds, nothing at all happened. But just as Eugene’s shoulders began to slouch with disappointment, he vanished in a blinding flash of light.

~*~*~

In the crater she had created, the Sundrop was just regaining consciousness. The first thing she was aware of was the sharp, throbbing pain in her leg. As she sat up to tend to that, she noticed the gemstone beside her. The one that had knocked her off the sun. With a confused frown, she ignored the pain in her leg to reach out and pick it up. It was pretty enough, and she wanted to get a better look at it when she was less distracted.

She pocketed it, then set about tearing strips off her petticoat to wrap around her leg and try to stabilize her knee some. She didn’t think it was broken, but it was twisted, and she was sure it wouldn't bear her weight without assistance.

It took longer than she would like to wrap it, but once she did, she cautiously got to her feet, intending to hobble around and look for a way out of the crater. But then, for the second time that night, a golden streak of light came heading for that exact spot. For the briefest flash of an instant, she hoped it was a fellow Sundrop, come down to help her back up to the sky, but it hardly took any time to realize that that wasn’t the case at all. The light wasn’t nearly bright enough, nor the figure moving fasting enough to have fallen from the heavens.

And then it collided with her, and knocked her back onto the ground with an indignant, “Oof!”

“Maaaaaagic is real,” Eugene said as soon as he hit the ground. “Magic is real, it’s real, of course it’s real, why shouldn’t it be real? All I did was light a candle and think of my mother and then-- My mother!” He turned to the woman he’d knocked down. “Mother, I am so, so sorry, Mother!”

She lay there groaning, barely registering what the… the _stupid man_ was saying to her, when a word he was repeating suddenly caught her attention.

“Did you just call me ‘Mother’?” she clarified. She was in pain, she was embarrassed, she was far, far, far, far from home, and she was getting grumpier by the second for it. “Do I _look_ like a mother to you?!”

The man - young man, she supposed - sat up and scuttled backwards off of her, before giving her a once-over. And then a twice-over. “A-ah…” he said, seeming stunned.

Great. An inarticulate lunkhead, this was all she needed.

“Are you alright?” he asked at last, and offered his hand. “Do you need some help?”

“Help?” she scoffed. “No. No, I need some peace and quiet and solitude, so I can figure out what to do!”

“Sorry, yeesh,” he snorted, backing off. “You try to help a lady.”

Standing back, Eugene took a look around, and suddenly realized that he was in a crater. In a flash, he’d jumped from ‘in a crater’ to ‘things that fall from the sky make craters’ to ‘the Sundrop,’ and realized that just before Quaid lit the candle for him, he’d thought about retrieving the Sundrop instead of about his mother.

Elated that he’d actually made it this far so quickly, he began to frantically search the ground, starting at the center of the crater and working outward. But when he didn’t see anything that resembled anything like a Sundrop, he turned back to the young woman he’d collided with.

“Hi, yeah, me again. Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a drop of sunlight that fell from the heavens around here?”

She stared at him, then laughed incredulously. “An inarticulate lunkhead who thinks he’s funny,” she amended her earlier thought out loud.

“Rude,” Eugene frowned. “Look, we’re in a crater, so this has to be where it fell.”

Incredulity never leaving her, she decided to play along with this ridiculous charade. “Yes, this is where it fell,” she confirmed. “Or, if you want to be more precise, up there is where this… rock,” she pulled the Moonstone from her pocket to show him, “knocked it from the heavens when it was minding its own business. In fact, it was preparing to go to bed for the night!” She pointed at the center of the crater, where the ground was smooth and melted from her impact. “Over _there_ is where it landed the first time,” she continued, and pocketed the Moonstone once more. “And _here_ is where it was standing when some… _ruffian_ flew out of the sky and smashed into her, making her _fall_ for the second time tonight!”

Eugene was not a stupid man, and he hated to be called one. Even more, he hated to be _treated_ like he was stupid. But before he could get properly offended at her tone, everything she was saying clicked into place.

“ _You’re_ the Sundrop?!” he goggled. “The Sundrop is a _person?!_ ”

“Yes, the Sundrop is a person, _all_ Sundrops are people!” she explained harshly.

“Oh! Oh well, that changes things!” he said, scratching his head and looking her over. Yes, she was beautiful, of that he was sure. But what was with all the hair? Did all Sundrops have enough hair to measure the height of a building?

On the other hand, even though she wasn’t a sparkling gem, she was alive, and she was a person. And while Eugene never allowed himself to make the leap from ‘give a person as a gift’ to ‘slavery’ (he was sure Stalyan would _pay_ her for whatever work she had her do), he did make the leap that he’d come all this way in a very short time, so he might as well return home with his prize well before Brock got back.

“Actually, no it doesn’t. Sorry about this, Blondie.” And with that, he grabbed her own hair and trussed her up, leaving a long lead of it, like a leash.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she demanded, struggling against the bonds. But she knew her hair was unbreakable, and that struggling was pointless.

“You’re going to be a birthday gift for Staylan, my true love,” he explained.

“Right,” she scoffed. “A kidnapped, injured woman is the perfect romantic gift. You must be a real charmer. Well you can figure something else out, because I’m not going anywhere with you.”

~*~*~

Adira stood alone in the chapel of Umbra castle. She was still turning over in her head the idea of ruling this land, and of the bloodshed required to do so. On the other hand, she didn’t want to die at anyone’s hands, either. Why had Umbra become such a place, where this sort of barbary was necessary? Why was King Edmund allowing it? Tradition was one thing, but he was a kinder man than that!

As she pondered this, the minister came out from the back rooms. “Adira,” he intoned softly, and the tall woman met his gaze. “I know you hesitate,” he continued, keeping his voice low, “but I have to admit, I hope you succeed. I would like to see Umbra under a kinder ruler than it has been for generations. And just think! All you must do is return with the Moonstone first! If you can avoid bloodshed, it will be all the better for everyone! It’s not as though Hector and Quirin will be _your_ next in line.”

She nodded, mulling it over. “I’ll fight if it comes to it,” she admitted. “But I’ll do as I always do. You know I seek to disarm before harm."

Just then, they were interrupted as Hector and Quirin entered as well. The taller man was somber, no keener to fight this out than Adira. But both knew that just leaving the throne to Hector wasn’t wise. He was a zealot, and got so single mindedly focused that he would be willing to kill anyone who simply did not agree with his ideas.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, “but you know how my son is. I had to make sure he’d be safe if I left him alone.”

Adira clasped arms with him in greeting. “Safe from himself, I think you mean,” she smiled knowingly.

“Well… yes.”

“Enough smalltalk. We’ve got a mission to fulfill,” Hector pointed out. “And as a show of comradery in this, I’ve gotten us all a little something.” He pulled out a box, and inside were four matching boutonnieres. They consisted of large, pink buds, with decorative black vinework hanging off of them. Adira didn’t trust them, but it was a show of good faith to accept one, right?

“Oh, how exotic!” the minister beamed.

There were enough for him to take one, too, so he did. Everyone pinned the blooms to their shirt fronts and smiled cordially around at each other.

“Oh, look!” Quirin said with wonder, as his bloom began to open. They watched, and it suddenly released a cloud of pollen right into his face. Adira took a startled step back, but her eyes didn’t widen in concern until he started to snicker, then giggle. And then, as he became incapacitated with laughter, the decorative black vines on the boutonniere began to move and grow, wrapping themselves around him, binding him and squeezing.

This wasn’t her doing, she knew, and her eyes flew to Hector, who met her gaze with a look of concern. The concern turned to shock when it wasn’t Adira’s bud that sprang open next, but the minister’s. His laughter joined Quirin’s, and Adira snatched the flower from her shirt front and threw it at Hector as she drew her sword.

“You did this!” she accused.

“No,” Hector smirked. “ _You_ did, sister. When you picked the wrong flower to wear.” He held up a hand, halting any attack he thought she might make in retaliation. “You can strike me down now, or you can try to save them,” he added with a gesture at the fallen men, and turned on his heel, strolling purposefully from the room.

Adira turned back to the two men she considered friends and saw that it was already too late. Both of their laughter had been silenced forever, suffocated in man-eating vines.

Well… not forever, exactly. There was nothing to be done about the minister, but a moment after he died, Quirin’s spirit, bound in vines but feeling no pain, joined a group of spirits who had been watching the whole affair. They were King Edmund’s siblings, and they all nodded to him.

“Quirin, good to see you. Well, not good but… you understand,” Edmind's sister smiled. It was a pity her head was on backwards when she did it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not accustomed to killing people in my writing, but this is clearly the chapter where people start dying. Therefore I decided that if I was in for a penny, in for a pound. I might as well make it tragic and leave some orphans behind as well. >:)
> 
> Also, I've decided all the ancestor ghosts in "Destinies Collide" shall play the part of Edmund's deceased siblings.


	4. The Story of How I Convinced the Sundrop to Come With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rapunzel didn’t know any of this about him. She didn’t even know his real name, since he’d introduced himself as Flynn Rider. All she knew was that he was an idiot, he had no idea how to use the magic he’d used, he thought she was his mother upon landing on her, and he was an inconsiderate lout who thought slavery was a good idea for a birthday gift. Oh, and he was good at knots. Before he’d fallen asleep, he’d waxed poetic about this ‘Stalyan’ of his. Well, not so much poetry as purple prose. With lots of stuttering as he failed to find the words he wanted. In her opinion, this Stalyan sounded dreadful, but that might be the sprained knee talking. And the whole rest of the bad day when she thought about it. But she wasn’t in the mood to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

_Well, hello everyone! Good to see you back! I’m gonna do a quick recap for you, because I can sense that I’m not going to need to narrate nearly as much from here on in, but I want to be sure you all remember where we left off._

_I had found the Sundrop (who does have a name, I promise), and it turned out she was not only a beautiful young woman with impossibly long hair, she was also extremely stubborn and in a bad mood and was averse to being given to another beautiful young lady as a gift. Go figure._

_King Edmund of Umbra had decided he didn’t want to be king anymore, and wanted to retire with his lovely wife. The lineage of Umbra’s rulers has always been a vicious one, and with all of his siblings long-dead, it was up to Edmund’s Brotherhood to find the Moonstone (which, by the way, knocked the Sundrop out of the sky when he sent it out into the world) and return it to him. The first one back with the Moonstone gets to be the next king. We started with Adira, Hector and Quirin, but Quirin was bumped off at the end of the last chapter. Not to worry, he’s a ghost now, along with Edmund’s family, and they’re watching the proceedings from here on in._

_And the third party, the witches, Gothel, Tromus and Sugracha. The three of them already had eternal life, because a Sundrop’s heart is like ambrosia. No, not the too-sweet Jello and fruit “salad” stuff with marshmallows and whatever else in it. I’m talking about the food of the Greeks gods. The stuff that makes you immortal. But like ambrosia, it doesn’t keep you from aging. In Greek mythology, you need nectar for that. In our story, you need a fresh Sundrop heart. See, a Sundrop’s heart will grant immortality at just one bite, but you do continue to age. You can rejuvenate by eating more of one, though. But the witches were down to just one bite of the heart that belonged to the last Sundrop who fell, four hundred years ago._

_By cheating, Gothel “won” the right to eat the last of the previous Sundrop’s heart, which has made her young and healthy and beautiful - for a limited quantity of beauty, I guess - and able to travel out in the world without people looking at her like the ugly old crone she really is. (No, I’m not biased, why do you ask?) And here is where I leave you, with the witches. Sorry about that._

Tromus and Sugracha helped to dress Gothel for the road, and as they fussed with lacings and jewels and hair, she had several moments to look around their palatial home. Palatial, yes, but an absolute mess. They hadn’t cleaned since the last time they were all young, and they had definitely accumulated more stuff since then. Every nook and cranny was crammed with magical objects, artifacts and ingredients, and all the spaces in between were full of dust.

Gothel scoffed at the mess, wrinkling her nose. “How have we lived in such filth all these years?” she wondered. Striding forward, she snapped her fingers, turning on rows of crystal chandeliers and shedding light on even the gloomiest of corners. Then, put on a simpering smile, she turned back to the other two. “Would you two be absolute _dears_ and clean this place up while I’m gone?” she cooed in a saccharine tone. “Once we have the heart, we’ll look like royalty again, and we ought to be living as royalty as well.”

Sugracha returned to outfiting her with things she’d need for the journey: a magic mirror to contact home with, rune stones to divine which direction she should go. Tromus, on the other hand, brought her a tray full of wicked-looking blades hewn from the black rocks that littered the kingdom. Nothing in Umbra was harder, or ground down sharper. Perfect for cutting the still-beating heart out of a Sundrop. Gothel lifted each in examination, selecting her weapon.

“When I return, well all be young and beautiful again,” she went on. “I won’t fail at this quest.”

She swept from their home, the mists of Umbra parting behind her billowing cloak. But neither she nor the other two saw the baby chameleon that escaped their home with her.

~*~*~

Rapunzel wasn’t happy. She struggled against her hair that bound her wrists, but she knew the strands were unbreakable against mere muscles. Perhaps if she wasn’t injured, perhaps if she was happy enough to _shine_ , as sunlight is meant to do, she could break free of it. Ah, but to cut her hair would be to lose her power entirely, and she needed it still to find a way back up to the sky. Besides, what kind of a Sundrop would she be without her power?

Beside her, Eugene slept. It had been a long day for him, after all. He’d worked, arranged the picnic for Stalyan, proposed to her and got half a yes, tried to cross the wall, found out his parents gave him up to save his life, and used magic to fly hundreds of miles away in a moment, landing at the feet of an angry, stubborn girl who, it turned out, was the Sundrop he was seeking as a birthday-slash-engagement present for Stalyan. Okay, he’d landed literally on her. And then she’d had the gall to refuse to cooperate. So, he’d gone to sleep. They had a long road ahead of them, after all.

It was easy for Eugene to sleep anywhere. Growing up in the orphanage, comfortable mattresses were a luxury he’d never had. It was: learn to sleep on a hard surface or never get a wink of sleep in his life.

Rapunzel didn’t know any of this about him. She didn’t even know his real name, since he’d introduced himself as Flynn Rider. All she knew was that he was an idiot, he had no idea how to use the magic he’d used, he thought she was his _mother_ upon landing on her, and he was an inconsiderate lout who thought _slavery_ was a good idea for a birthday gift. Oh, and he was good at knots. Before he’d fallen asleep, he’d waxed poetic about this ‘Stalyan’ of his. Well, not so much poetry as purple prose. With lots of stuttering as he failed to find the words he wanted. In her opinion, this Stalyan sounded dreadful, but that might be the sprained knee talking. And the whole rest of the bad day when she thought about it. But she wasn’t in the mood to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.

Her knee throbbed, and as she moved to rub it, she tugged on the hair-lead Eugene was holding in his sleep, jostling and waking him.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” he complained blearily.

“You know, normally I would,” she answered crossly, “but as I told you before, I was going to bed when I was knocked out of the sky. Between racing millions of miles across the sky, my swollen knee, and morons falling on me, I haven’t been able to catch a wink all night!”

“Well you’d better make an effort, Blondie, unless you have some sort of ability to sleep while walking and not run into trees and such. I don’t know, is that something Sundrops can do?”

“Have you not gotten it through your thick skull yet?!” she snapped. “I’m not _walking_ anywhere!”

Eugene blew a frustrated raspberry into the dirt, then started to get up. “Fine,” he answered, dusting his clothes off and grabbing the doublet he’d been using as a pillow. “Sit in your crater and do nothing. Be bored. You know, I was going to put you back in the sky once I’d shown you to Stalyan, but you’d rather not come along with me so… forget it.”

Rapunzel felt her heart speed up and she looked up at him, not daring to hope, and choosing to hold onto her anger. It made her feel like she had some kind of control right now when really, she had none. “And just how were you planning to get me back to the sky?” she wondered incredulously.

With a smirk, Eugene pulled the remains of the Neserdnian candle out of his pocket. “I find the fastest way to travel is by candlelight,” he answered smugly.

And now, she really did begin to hope. 

“You’ve got a Neserdnian candle!” she realized, and for the first time since landing on Earth, she smiled.

“Yes, I’ve got a Nerdlian candle,” he echoed, or thought he did.

She paused, her opinion of his intelligence dropping a few more notches, along with her smile. “A _Neserdnian_ candle,” she corrected.

“That’s what I said,” he answered seamlessly.

“You said ‘Nerlian,’ which isn’t a word, by the way,” she snorted.

“Yeah, well… I was going to give what’s left of it to you.” He held it out to her as incentive to just cooperate with him on this.

She looked it over and decided that she was still in too much of a bad mood to be remotely gracious. “That has _barely_ one use left,” she pointed out.

“Then be grateful I’m offering it to you and not using it right now to get us both back to Vardaros!” he shot back. She pursed her lips and hummed noncommittally. She knew he had a point, but she didn’t _want_ to be grateful, especially not to her captor, even if he didn’t intend it to be long-term. “Unless you have a better way of getting yourself home?” he added, and waggled the bit of candle at her.

She sighed and turned away from him, then huffed out a resigned, “ _Fine_.” Her shoulders dropped and she softly requested, “Help me up.”

Ever the gentleman (or so he thought of himself), Eugene came over to lift the slight woman onto her feet, and he stayed near until he was sure she was steady on her bad knee. And then they made their way out of the crater and onto the road to Vardaros. Though he did complain about her walking speed right away.

~*~*~

On a hillside, covered in the dry grass of late summer, there was a hovel. Well, not a hovel, really. It was in decent condition and the roof didn’t leak. But there were only two rooms to it, and that made for cramped quarters, especially for a grown man who shared the place with his mother.

They weren’t rich by any means, but Dwayne always supposed it could be worse. Today, he was heading into town to sell their wall-eyed goat, Milton. It was a shame, because he’d always sort of been friends with Milton, but the fact was, the goat was more trouble than he was worth, and tended to start wrecking things if he so much as heard a bell ring. The hut being in good condition was no coincidence: it had recently been repaired.

“Dwayne, remember not to take any less than a silver crown!” his mother called from within the hut. “And no doddeling along the way. And don’t even think of stopping at the pub while you’re in town!”

“Yes, mum,” Dwayne sighed as he tied the lead around Milton’s neck.

Well, today was to be his lucky day! Or, perhaps, his very unlucky one.

He turned, and there directly in front of him, so close that he should have been able to hear her coming, was a striking woman with raven curls and grey eyes. She looked to be in about her mid-30’s, and like she’d cut your throat with a smile if you dared to say she looked 40.

“I’ll pay you a silver coin for that handsome creature,” she smiled warmly.

Startled, Dwayne looked around, wondering what this woman would be doing in the middle of nowhere, looking for a goat. He noticed, then, that she had a one-person chariot, inky black, and in splendid condition.

“Oh! Um… he’s a bit small to pull your cart,” he pointed out.

The woman looked over her shoulder, and she tittered behind her well-manicured hand. “You’re right!” she smiled. “I’ll need two!”

“I only have the one for sale, ma’am.” He felt like he’d just been shot with an ice arrow, look she gave him was so cold. “Miss,” he corrected, and was rewarded with another smile.

“Not to worry. I’m sure something will turn up,” she said, and held out her hand, pointing a finger at him.

“Um…” was all he managed, before the world began to change for him. Everything seemed larger, and he could see significantly more to the side than he’d been able to before. Now, he could look Milton in the eye, which was distressing, because both of them had their eyes on the sides of their heads.

Satisfied with her work, Gothel began to lead both animals to her cart, but as she tugged on Milton’s rope, she noticed liversports on her hand and gasped. Even so simple a spell had already drained her of some of the youth the piece of Sundrop heart had granted her!

She did not pay the silver crown, but she did leave the property with her two new goats.

~*~*~

The race was on between Hector and Adira, he on his rhinoceros and she in the driver’s seat of a small caravan. Normally, she would want to walk, but she had to hurry. To allow Hector to find the Moonstone before her would be folly. She did not realize, though, that she had other passengers aboard. The spirit of Quirin and the ghosts of Edmund’s fallen siblings rode along inside, some dozing on each other, and others watching the scenery go by out the windows. 

None of them realized that the Moonstone was on the move, in the pocket of the Sundrop, who limped along behind her captor and possible savior. Rapunzel wasn’t yet sure if she could trust this Flynn Rider, but what other choice did she have right now?

Meanwhile, Gothel rode along, pulled by her stolen goat and kidnapped, transmogrified man. The road curved, and she found herself coming up to a yellow wagon, pulled off the side of the road, a campfire crackling merrily. Gothel could smell meat cooking over the fire and her stomach growled unpleasantly. Ancient as she was, she recognized the wagon and its driver as the purveyor of rare artifacts. She wondered if she would happen to have any Neserdnian candles with her that she could purchase. Possibly trade a slave for. She pulled her chariot up and stopped with a smile.

“Who goes there?” Calliope asked as she approached. “I’m warning you, I’m armed!”

“Oh stop that,” Gothel rolled her eyes. “I know who you are, and I’m not going to hurt you. I’m traveling a long way and I don’t seem to have brought enough provisions. Would you be a dear and share your meal with a weary traveler?”

Calliope looked her up and down. Of course she knew who she was, Calliope was famous for her hard to acquire wares, not to mention for her master the Keeper. “I _suppose_ ,” she sighed. “But you really ought to learn to pack better when you travel. You know, there’s a proper way to go on the road and an improper way, and a cart pulled by two goats is _not_ the right way to travel far. Go on, sit down by the fire. I was just about to season this thing,” she indicated the rabbit on the spit.

She got to her feet and hurried back to her wagon, searching until she found exactly what she was looking for: a small glass vial resembling a braid filled with a purple liquid. Returning to the fire, she sat once more. “Which part would you like?”

Once the meat was carved and “seasoned,” and Gothel was served and eating, Calliope sat back, stabbing at the contents of her plate. “So, what brings you out so far with such a ridiculously small mode of transportation?”

“I’m looking for a fallen Sundrop,” Gothel smiled knowingly. “She fell only last night, not far from here. And when I find her, I’ll carve out her heart while she still lives and my youth and beauty and all my power will be restored to me for centuries to come.” But even as she spoke, Gothel’s face fell, realizing that she was revealing absolutely everything to the short woman, when she’d intended to tell her nothing at all!

Calliope listened, astonished at the revelation. “A Sundrop? Here? Do you have any idea what that heart is _worth?_ Where exactly do you think it--”

Gothel sniffed her plate, then dropped it in alarm and anger. “Truth serum!” she accused. “You _dare_ to force the truth out of me with that _potion?!_ ” She rose to her feet, towering over the younger woman. “Do you have any idea what a mistake you’ve made, Calliope?”

The bespectacled woman gulped. She’d assumed she was known because of her fame, but now she was starting to think otherwise. She dropped from her seat to her knees. “Please don’t hurt me!” she begged. “I won’t go looking for the Sundrop, I swear!”

Gothel raised her hand, pointing at the terrified woman. “Look for it all you wish,” she intoned. The world shook around them as she cast her spell, the wind whipping at both of their hair and robes. “You shall not see it, smell it, hear or touch it, or perceive her in any way, even if she stands right in front of you.” Calliope nodded, cringing, expecting pain to come with this magical command, but it didn’t. She was left stunned and a little disoriented.

When she was done, Gothel looked at the hand she’d used to cast and sighed, exasperated, as liver spots appeared on that one as well, She supposed she already had some fine lines and wrinkles, too. Maybe even grey hairs. Why was magic so _expensive_ , yet necessary? “Pray you never meet me again, Calliope. And as payment for poisoning me, I’ll be taking something of value from your wagon.”

She wanted a Neserdnian candle. What she found was the Mind Trap. She didn’t know what she would need it for, but with an artifact that powerful, she couldn’t risk not taking it with her. The kings of Umbra tended to pledge themselves to the Brotherhood that this stone could control.

And with that, Gothel was on her way once more. She would have to find another meal elsewhere.

~*~*~

The forest that Rapunzel and Eugene were walking through was green and beautiful, and she was secretly marveling at it all. From up in the sky, she couldn’t get a proper feel for what life on the ground was actually like, no matter how she looked through her telescope. It didn’t account for things like how the leaves crunched under her bare feet, or the birdsong, or the feeling of a summer breeze.

She would probably be enjoying it more, though, if she wasn’t so tired and in so much pain. Hobbling along on a twisted knee wasn’t helping it at all, nor was it helping her mood. And perhaps she was taking it out on her traveling companion, but perhaps he deserved it.

“Let me get this straight, Flynn,” she said. “You’ve never been to Umbra before. You’ve never left your _hometown_ before. And you think we’re going the right way because you just… _do?_ ”

“I do!” he snapped back. It felt weird but kind of good to have someone calling him by his secret self-given name. They were going to be in each other’s company for a week or less, so what did it matter if she didn’t call him by his real name? Either way, she was annoying as hell. Did she ever stop complaining? “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m following my heart back to my true love.”

“Oh, please,” she snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Look, Blondie--”

“ _Rapunzel_ ,” she corrected for what felt like the hundredth time. “My name is _Rapunzel._ ”

“... Gesundheit.” 

“How many times do I have to-- Ow!” Her step had faltered, and her knee wobbled and throbbed painfully. “Can we _please_ slow down?”

“Sure, sorry,” he sighed, and paused to look around. All her badgering about going the right way was making him doubt himself, but he’d never tell. “Look, we’re going north, and the wall is north, so this is the right way,” he assured her, and himself while he was at it.

As he talked, she hobbled over to a tree off the road and sat down, her back against the trunk.

“Hey, whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“I need to rest,” she answered, massaging her knee. If she was honest, she was in far more pain than she was letting on, so much so that she was on the verge of tears.

“Oh, come on! You promised to hold out until we reached the next town for food and rest!”

“ _Please_ , Flynn!” she begged. “I’ve been since last night, my knee is killing me, and we don’t even know how far the next town is! I need _sleep!_ I need to rest my knee! _Please!_ ”

Eugene sighed. Maybe it was because she was calling him by his heroic moniker while looking very much like a damsel in distress, but his heart softened. “Yeah, alright,” he conceded at last. “You sleep, and I’ll go get something to eat, bring some back for you.”

He approached her and heel-sat. Up close, he could see the tears in her big, green eyes, and felt bad for putting her on this march. “Get some rest,” he murmured. Then, he took the lead he’d been holding onto and wrapped it around the tree, binding it around her wrists as well.

“What-- what are you doing?” she wondered.

“Oh! Making sure you don’t run off while I’m gone!” he explained.

“But what if there are ruffians and these woods?” she demanded, panic rising.

“Nah, the worst you can expect to find here is a bunny,” he reasoned. He couldn’t possibly know that, but she might try gnawing through her own arm if he didn’t reassure her.

“Flynn?” she asked, but he just gave her a cocky salute and strolled off, completely ignoring her second cry of, “Flynn!” too.

She wanted to be angry, but he had a point. If she was free and could walk, she wouldn’t hesitate to leave the instant he was out of sight. Resigning herself to her fate, Rapunzel rested her head back against the tree and allowed herself to sleep as well as she was able under the circumstances.

~*~*~

Hector watched the sea, the waves pushing and pulling with the tide. The scene was serene, the salty breeze refreshing. Normally, such a view would put one calmly at ease. But Hector was not at ease. Far from it. Beside him stood a monkey, but not just any monkey. It was said that the soul of an immortal sorcerer, Demanitus, was trapped inside his body, and that immortal was clairvoyant. Hector believed it, because the monkey could speak.

“South,” Hector said, not looking at the beast. “You told me to go south, and so I did.”

“That’s correct,” the monkey answered him.

“And yet, here we are, at the shore, no Moonstone in hand. Do you propose we go for a swim and keep looking?”

“Forgive me,” Demanitus bowed. “I merely relayed to you what the cards told me.”

Hector looked at the monkey now, his strange eyes seeming to glow in the late afternoon light. “Consult the cards again,” he stated. It was not a suggestion. But then his demeanor changed, and he smiled. “Wait! Before we seek the Moonstone, I have another question! Just humor me. Am I a member of King Edmund Brotherhood?”

Exhaling a relieved sigh, Demanitus pulled his deck out, and with some unbidden animalistic chatter, he shuffled the cards and turned the top one over. The 9 of Animals, which featured nine lucky little ladybugs on it.. “Yes!” he answered.

“Another question! Are bearcats my favorite animal?”

Demanitus shuffled the deck and turned a card. The 5 of Food, with several lovely cupcakes drawn. “Yes.”

“Has excessive begging or pleading ever persuaded me to spare the life of a traitor?”

Demanitus hesitated a moment, but shuffled and turned the card over. The 9 of Weapons, which showed a man completely skewered by nine spears. He swallowed.

“What does that mean?” Hector pressed.

“No.”

“Good. Now, for this next question, I want you to let me draw the card. From your hand.”

The monkey shuffled and spread the cards before Hector. The thin man pulled one and flipped it over so they could both see. The Death card. “Are you working for Adira?”

Demantius didn't answer, but he didn’t need to. Whether that card was confirmation or not of his allegiance with Adira, Hector had made up his mind, and his decision was drawn on the card. Hector’s retractable blade was through Demanitus’ stomach and back up his sleeve in mere moments.

As the sensient monkey lay there dying on the beach, his tarot cards scattered by the wind, he could reflect on the irony of the Death card not meaning death, but change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting in the thick of things now! Magic, murder and... something else snappy that begins with M, but is relevant to Rapunzel and Eugene's part!
> 
> Tromus is counted as a witch, because in this story, witchery is a type of magic, and sorcery is a different type (as is wizardry). None of it has anything to do with gender.
> 
> I really hope you're enjoying this. Since I started writing it, I've discovered that Stardust isn't really well known among the Tangled fandom. I know some of you are giving this fic a chance despite that, and I want you to know that I'm grateful for it.


	5. The Story of How I Was Saved From Poisoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene scrambled to his feet and went after her, noting how much taller Adira was than he. He was duly impressed by her stature. “Well, hey, then that works out for both of us!” he pressed. “You could use a second pair of hands, and a second pair of eyes, right? So you can watch the road while I look out for more idiots.” Or, apparently, assassins. “Ma’am, please. Maybe something brought me to you; fate, destiny…”
> 
> “-- A couple of horses,” she deadpanned, nodding towards the two steeds in the harnesses.
> 
> “Sure! But it clearly brought you to me, and I need your help. You could need mine, too.”
> 
> She sighed once more and considered her options, looking down the road and thinking over what he suggested, but quickly. Thunder rolled, and she briefly turned her attention skyward.
> 
> “Get on,” she decided at last.

_ Welcome back! Sorry for the delay, but I’m so glad you could join me again, because this is where things start getting really exciting! We’re going to begin this chapter by focusing on a character who’s technically already been introduced, but also hasn’t, really. He’s a bit of a mystery, and as much as I hate to admit it, something of a hero. _

_ It’s not easy being a chameleon alone in the world. Actually, I suppose that’s actually quite easy, if you’re an adult chameleon who grew up in the wilds of your home jungle. Nothing but warm sun and all the bugs you can eat… I digress. It’s not easy to be a  _ **_baby_ ** _ chameleon, born in captivity, to be out alone in a world that’s not your natural environment. Chameleons are supposed to live in tropical paradises, not craggy mountains where it snows a third of the year. (Lucky for our plucky young guy, it’s late summer in our story, so he’s not about to freeze his tropical blood.) As far as I know, chameleons don’t name their children, or themselves, so we’re gonna give this guy a name so that we don’t have to keep calling him “the chameleon.” Let’s go with… Pascal. _

_ Now, Pascal hasn’t had an easy life so far. Why, just in the past twenty-four hours alone, he’s witnessed his own mother’s murder and the disgusting consumption of the fragment of a magical heart! (Not to mention Gothel’s naked body. I’m surprised he didn’t go blind from that.) But, as you may recall, he’s escaped that life, thanks to Sugracha’s carelessness. As far as heroes go, he might not be the biggest or the strongest, but he’s got more heart than anyone I’ve ever seen. _

The road was hard. Literally hard. To tender feet that had only ever known the bottom of a cage, hard-packed earth and pebbles were no picnic. Neither were the miles and miles Pascal needed to travel to get to the Sundrop, though he didn’t know where exactly he was going. He only knew that this Sundrop person was in danger, and he felt compelled to warn her. He’d lived his short life thus far in the company of his mother and the three witches, and he’d witnessed darkness and atrocities that most mere mortals cannot fathom.

Though it seemed counter-intuitive, given the circumstances he was escaping, he’d had the common sense to cling to Gothel’s cloak as she left her giant seashell home, camouflaging against the dark fabric. In that manner, he’d managed to hitch a ride with her, witnessing her spells and crimes throughout the day, and being privy to all the information she was compelled to share with people. The more he learned, the more horrified he became, and the more urgent his self-appointed mission.

Before darkness fell entirely, the witch had stopped for the night, and Pascal decided to use the twilit gloom to get away from her and make his own way from there. By the light of her campfire, Gothel had used her rune stones to divine a direction to go in the morning, and he took that information and ran for all he was worth. He didn’t know how long he’d been scurrying in the dim light when he came upon a building, not nearly so grand as the witches’ home, but about a thousand times more friendly-looking.

The humans, he was sure, wouldn’t be able to understand his squeaks, but if he could find another animal nearby, maybe he’d be able to make some headway in communication. He was in luck, for outside the dwelling, a white horse rested. Pascal leapt up and grabbed onto the horse’s flicking tail, then climbed to his back and ran across the length of his spine, up his mane to his head. Panting and exhausted from his excursion, he hopped down onto the horse's nose and began waving his little front legs to get the other beast’s attention.

Startled, the horse went nearly cross-eyed looking at Pascal. Where had the tiny lizard come from? It took a few moments for Pascal to catch his breath enough to explain to the horse who he was, where he came from, and what he wanted to do. Fortunately, the horse belonged to the Captain of the local Guard. He took his duty very seriously, and stopping evil witches from killing innocent Sundrops was right up his alley of heroics (though, to be fair, he’d never taken on a duty quite so grand before).

The horse introduced himself as Maximus, and though he did have a few minor qualms about leaving the Captain steedless, he nonetheless followed Pascal’s directions, and the two unlikely companions set out to find and warn the Sundrop before Gothel could get her hands on her.

~*~*~

When Rapunzel woke, night was near, but the density of the trees kept the vast majority of the sun’s last rays, spread over the golden horizon, obscured from view. She was still sitting upright, leaning against the tree, and she was still bound by the wrist with her own unbreakable hair. She was also entirely alone in a dark forest, a lovely young maiden, with a knee injury that felt significantly worse than when she’d dozed off.

Her dreams had been strange, and a little sad upon waking. She’d been dancing on floating lights, back up to the heavens, and had nearly reached the sun when she lost her footing and fell. But Flynn had caught her, riding the giant nub of a Neserdnian candle. With his handsome smile in place, he’d danced with her, the floating lights lifting gently around them, filling the sky with pieces of light, drifting ever upwards, but never quite going as high as when she’d been on her own. It was strange, because she didn’t actually know how to dance, but it had seemed as easy as breathing when she was with Flynn.

Her waking mind stewed on this for a few moments, but the snap of a twig caught her attention entirely.

“Flynn?” she asked, calling into the darkness. Visions of ruffians and thugs filled her mind’s eye, and she was painfully aware that she was alone and injured and completely vulnerable. She could only hope that her rude, imbecilic traveling companion was the one approaching now.

No one answered her for several moments, and she peered about, trying to catch even the slightest glimpse of what she’d heard before. The sound of breaking branches came again, but from somewhere over her shoulder, where she couldn’t see because of the tree she leaned against. Eerie bird calls rang out, and Rapunzel hated to admit it, but she was scared. It was one thing to gaze down through a telescope on the goings on of humans and Earth from the safety of the sun, but it was another thing entirely to be stuck here alone, trapped, with potential danger on every side and something most definitely approaching from her blind side.

Still, she tried to be brave, and squared her shoulders. “I’m not afraid of you!” she called out. Lied really, but she preferred to think of it as bluffing. Nothing answered her again, and she was suddenly aware of how dark it was, and how hard for her to see. She wasn’t used to not being able to see, being a literal embodiment of sunlight, but she hadn’t shone at all since her crash landing. The early moonlight slanting through the trees did little to illuminate the forest, and the shadows were far deeper than the moonrays were bright. And all the while she could hear the shuffling of someone - or some _ thing _ \- approaching.

“Flynn, is that you?” she tried again. If only she had a weapon of some kind, she’d at least feel marginally safer! “It’s not funny,” she added, trying to sound stern and no-nonsense instead of terrified. She could feel eyes on her, hear the shuffling through the underbrush, practically feel the breathing of whatever being it was who was out there watching her. The pounding of her heart was so strong she could hear it in her ears and feel her pulse in her neck. “Flynn!” she admonished, trying to get him to just admit that he was playing some sort of cruel trick on her. Yes, she’d be mad, but she’d also be relieved to see his stupid smug face right now.

Any moment now, her fate would be sealed. Whatever ruffian or thug or men with pointy teeth who had come for her were about to leap from the shadows and take her, and that would be the end of it. Flynn would have no gift for Stalyan, Rapunzel would never rejoin the sun, and someone here on Earth would have found themselves a valuable prize. Terror wound up inside her like a coil, so tight she was liable to snap at any moment.

And then, it all culminated in nothing, when a white horse strode out of the bushes, sniffing the ground like a bloodhound. It was the most anti-climactic thing Rapunzel has ever experienced, and as if that sight wasn’t strange enough, in the dim moonlight, she could see something on its head, and that something was alive and directing the horse. The whole thing was so bizarre, and Rapunzel was so near panic, that a manic laugh exploded from her, shredding the tension into ribbons and confetti. The horse’s head shot up and he looked straight at her, then pranced excitedly in place whinnying with a big horsey grin on his face. The thing on its head - a lizard? - squeaked triumphantly, then exhaled a sigh of relief. What was going on here?

The lizard leapt off the horse’s head and onto Rapunzel’s shoulder. She barely flinched when it snuggled up to her face as if they were old friends.

_ The thing about animals is, they can sense more than humans can. Eugene looked at the Sundrop and saw a young woman, but Pascal and Max looked at her and saw her for who she truly was. _

“Do I know you?” Rapunzel wondered, delighted but baffled.

The lizard launched into an explanation, all in squeaks and gestures, and it was a crying shame, but she didn’t understand a word of it. She did, however, get the idea that he wanted to help. “That’s so sweet of you, but the problem is…” She held her wrists up, and the length of golden hair binding her to the tree shifted. “I’m stuck here.”

The little chameleon saluted her, and immediately got to work on the knots, proving that he could understand her even if she couldn’t understand him. In less than a minute, Rapunzel found herself free, and she laughed again, this time with relief. “You’re a lifesaver! Both of you!” she beamed up at the horse, then caught sight of his nameplate on the chest of his harness. It was circular and was emblazoned with a picture of the sun. It felt like some kind of sign, like she could definitely trust these too. Almost as if the sun itself had sent them to find her “Maximus!” she said enthusiastically, glad to have a name for one of them, at least. “And do you mind if I call you Pascal?” she asked the chameleon.

_ Okay, okay, I got the name from her. Sue me. _

Pascal shook his head and puffed his little chest up with pride. She giggled and nuzzled him with her cheek as he had her before.

Using the tree for support, Rapunzel got unsteadily to her feet, keeping weight off her injured knee. Maximus knelt down all the way to the ground so she could climb on without trouble. She reeled in her hair, holding it close, and he got to his feet, with his two passengers secure on his back, then walked proudly out of the forest, his every step the strut of a hero.

~*~*~

Gothel was not amused. Something in the evening air - a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach - had caused her to check her rune stones again to see how to get to the Sundrop. To her dismay, they told her that the Sundrop was on the move again, and so she’d roused herself and her goats from their camp and pressed onward, to see if she could cut off the Sundrop’s movement.

Now she stood in an open plain, early evening settled on the land like a shawl made of shadows, nothing left of the daylight but a thin golden line that clung to the horizon as though refusing to give up on life. It felt like a bad omen. She consulted the runes again, looking every which way to determine what they were telling her, but it was no use. Nothing they said made any sense. She considered her options, pulling a face as she realized the only course of action. With a frustrated sigh, she pulled her hand mirror out, took a moment to admire her youth and beauty once more (and pull the corners of her eyes out to smooth the crow’s feet that were starting to reform), then rubbed the glass with her sleeve, and breathed on it.

As the condensation cleared, rather than showing her reflection, it showed her the interior of her home. Much to her delight, Tromus and Sugracha had done as she’d suggested and had begun to clean. But that wasn’t why she was calling on them.

“You know, sister, the more magic you use the faster you age, yes no?” Tromus commented as he approached the mirror. “It is a dreadful truth of life.”

Gothel scoffed and rolled her eyes, quietly furious that he was daring to point out that she looked like she’d aged at all. “One goat and a small enchantment,” she pointed out. “Hardly extravagant.”

“Well even using the mirror will take its toll,” Sugracha pointed out. “You’d better just use the rune stones to locate the Sundrop, and only call on us if you’re in dire need.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Gothel snapped, then huffed. “I  _ am  _ using the rune stones, and they say she should be where I am, but she’s not here. I need to locate her and fast. The last non-gibberish they gave me, she was on the move.”

Understanding what she needed them to do, Tromus and Sugracha headed to the menagerie of captured animals. Sensing danger, the animals made a ruckus, all chattering and sounding their various forms of alarm as the two approached.

“Binturong or kirlok?” Tromus asked.

“Neither. Let’s use the albino viper for this one.”

The creature in question was dragged from its cage and unceremoniously slammed on the scrying table, its belly sliced open so its entrails could be read. Tromus’ eyebrows shot up as the tangled intestines spoke loudly to his keen eyes.

“It’s because you must stay where you are!” he told Gothel, turning back to the full length mirror where her reflection shone. “She is coming  _ to you! _ ”

“Be careful. Gothel,” Sugracha warned. “You need a gentle hand with this one. Misery has drained her, and she’s barely shining. She hardly resembles a Sundrop at all at the moment! Set a trap that ensures her heart is glowing before you cut it out.”

Gothel nodded, her mind already awhirl with thoughts and ideas. It would take more magic than she cared to use at the moment, but what did that matter when the Sundrop was practically in her grasp?

~*~*~

Eugene had found a small village, a few hours walk away, but after a day’s travel, he’d also succumbed to fatigue, and after a quick meal and purchasing some food for the road, he’d found himself asleep under the shade of a tree. He hadn’t expected it to be nearly nightfall when he awoke, but once he did, he made haste back to the woods to get the Sundrop.

He remembered exactly where he’d left her; the size and shape of the tree, and what the road looked like both coming and going. He recognized the road, he knew the tree. But Rapunzel wasn’t there.

“Blondie?” he called racing to where he’d left her. “Blondie!”

Dread filled him, starting in his boots and working its way up through his teal doublet to the top of his head. She’d escaped. He had no prize to give Stalyan. “Oh, you idiot…” he sighed, and threw his satchel down, then took a seat right where he’d left Rapunzel. With a sigh, he pulled the small loaf of bread he’d bought out and tore off a piece while he tried to figure out his next move.

~*~*~

Gothel knelt beside her two goats and murmured to them, “You shall become human.” It was probably the least taxing of the spells she was about to perform.

A poison green light wound its way around and between the two goats, and they transformed before Gothel’s eyes. The one who had always been a goat became a short man with sleepy eyes and a long beard. He took one look at Gothel, smiled enormously, then let out a loud belch. Curling her nose, she turned to the other, who had regained his original form. Luckily for her, Dwayne was a stupid man, and was disoriented from the transformation. A smarter man might have attempted to run right away.

“I’m sure she’s frightened of ruffians and thugs,” Gothel commented. “You need a gentler shape.”

The green light surrounded him again, and though he didn’t change height, he did change in figure, becoming far more curvy and voluptuous. His clothes even altered to suit his new feminine form. While she was at it, Gothel clouded his mind - a simple task, given his already staggering intellect - making him obedient and unwilling to run away.

She backed off the road, and the two transformed goats followed her lead. She then pointed a finger at the small chariot they’d been pulling. A trail of green fire surrounded the chariot which twisted and changed, planting itself in the ground and becoming a sign with a duck painted on it. Behind the sign, a building unfurled, growing from nothing and enveloping a nearby tree. It was a cheerful little building, crooked and friendly, with two stories and many windows of all sizes and shapes, with warm, welcoming light pouring out. Were it a building that had been naturally built and owned and occupied, it would have likely been a filthy dump, but since Gothel was constructing it with the Sundrop’s comfort in mind, she made sure it was clean and fragrant and pleasant.

A cheerful fire danced in the fireplace, warming the room, and the chandeliers made of antlers and polished weapons were all lit, making the space bright. Gothel strode in, her goat-humans following her. She turned to them to deliver her instructions.

“You are Shorty the innkeeper, and I am your wife,” she informed the bulbous-nosed man, who promptly responded, “Whoa-ho! Someone get me a glass, cause you are a tall drink of water!” She ignored him and turned to Dwayne. “And you are our daughter,” she told him. “Now, make everything ready. Our special guest will be here soon.”

~*~*~

Rapunzel had spent the last mile or so catching Maximus and Pascal up on her adventures on Earth so far, starting with being knocked out of the heavens with the rock in her pocket, which she showed them, and continuing on to Flynn and the way he’d treated her all along.

“I mean, who even knows if he’d have kept his promise about the Neserdnian candle, anyway?” she pointed out as they rode at an easy walking pace, one that wouldn’t jostle her knee. “I just refuse to believe he’s the only person in all of Umbra who could’ve helped me. And just going on and on about ‘Stalyan this’ and ‘Stalyan that’. What kind of a name is Stalyan, anyway? What, does she have a sister named Bronco?” She snorted at her own mean spirited joke, then sighed. “Sorry, that was mean…”

A peal of distant thunder rolled through the night sky, and were Rapunzel more attuned to these sorts of things, she might have mistaken it as an ominous sort of warning.

~*~*~

With a belly full of bread and wine, Eugene had dozed off under the tree where he’d imprisoned Rapunzel earlier that day. But as he dozed, he dreamed, or at least, he seemed to. A voice seemed to whisper to him from a very long way off, filling his head with anxiety and images. 

“ _ Eugene… Please protect our sister, Eugene… Rapunzel is in grave danger. The horse and the chameleon came to help her, but now they’re heading into a trap _ .”

Eugene frowned. Why did the stupid dream voice have to use his real name instead of ‘Flynn’?

" _ No Sundrop is safe in Umbra _ ,” the voice went on, and Eugene dreamed - or recalled - of the skies at dawn, of a young woman - another Sundrop - with curly black hair, who came falling from the heavens and landing in a crater not unlike the one he’d found Rapunzel in. When she’d fallen, she’d been glowing, but the glow quickly faded as she realized what had happened to her. She was helped to her feet by an old man and woman, who led her to an enormous house shaped like a seashell. The young woman was pampered, treated like a princess, until she was content and smiling, happy, and literally aglow once more. And then she was led to an altar, where she willingly laid down until another old woman approached, raising a wicked-looking black knife. The knife came down, and the Sundrop screamed in alarm and pain, grey-green eyes wide.

Eugene woke with a start, still hearing the scream. But he was still hearing the whispered voice, too, and when he looked past the trees to the western sky, he knew it was coming from the last light of the setting sun. Thunder rolled through the night, a second warning that kept his heart pounding.

“ _ There’s no time to waste. A caravan is coming. By any means possible, you must get on it _ .”

Eugene scrambled to his feet, startled, alarmed, but also filled with a strange sense of purpose. This was it; the hero’s adventure he’d always been craving. There was a damsel in need of rescuing, and rather than drag her off to be a gift, he was going to save her life!

“ _ Run! _ ” the whispered voice urged.

Getting his bearings, Eugene took off at a sprint for the road to intercept the caravan he’d just been told about. He had no plan of action just yet, but he’d always thought fast on his feet. He saw the caravan coming, barrelling down the dirt road far faster than anyone should be driving this time of night, and he ran to intercept it. Faster and faster, the air burning in his lungs as urgency for Rapunzel’s life fueled his blood, his feet pounding on the ground and his heart hammering so loudly he could hear it in his ears above the rumble of the caravan. Making his plan, he leapt to cling to the side of the racing vehicle.

What Eugene didn’t know about this caravan was that it was being driven by Adira, and it held the invisible passengers of the ghosts of Quirin and King Edmund’s dead siblings. They’d grown bored from the journey thus far, and had dozed off in the cabin.

Adira drove as fast as she could, frequently checking over her shoulder to see if Hector had caught up to her yet. It was a grim mission she was on, attempting to locate the Moonstone before he did, and suspecting an arrow in the back at any moment. She was not specifically suspecting the sound of something colliding with the side of the caravan, and when she checked over her shoulder, she saw a young man in the road. Frowning, she pulled the horses to a stop, and drew her sword, anticipating this to be some sort of trick, but unwilling to not help if it was, indeed, an innocent.

She strode toward the supine figure and pointed the tip of her wicked black blade directly at his chest. “If Hector insists on sending a boy to do a man’s job--”

“No, no, wait, please!” Eugene begged, holding his hands free and clear where she could see them. “I don’t know any Hector, I just need a lift! Look at me, I’m unarmed, and clearly an idiot, running after a moving caravan. Please. Let me ride with you.”

With a sigh, Adira sheathed her blade. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’m on a quest of the utmost importance.”

Eugene scrambled to his feet and went after her, noting how much taller she was than he. He was duly impressed by her stature. “Well, hey, then that works out for both of us!” he pressed. “You could use a second pair of hands,  _ and  _ a second pair of eyes, right? So you can watch the road while I look out for more idiots.” Or, apparently, assassins. “Ma’am, please. Maybe something brought me to you; fate, destiny…”

“-- A couple of horses,” she deadpanned, nodding towards the two steeds in the harnesses.

“Sure! But it clearly brought you to me, and I need your help. You could need mine, too.”

She sighed once more and considered her options, looking down the road and thinking over what he suggested, but quickly. Thunder rolled, and she briefly turned her attention skyward.

“Get on,” she decided at last.

“Yes! Thank you!” he cheered, remembering the eerie whisper of the sunlight that woke him up, not to mention the vision it had sent him. He climbed aboard and settled down next to her. “Next stop, anywhere!”

Adira snapped the reins, urging the two horses back into motion just as rain began to fall on the two harried travelers.

~*~*~

The wind-whipped sign outside the witch-manufactured inn had a duck on it, and cheerful lettering that called it the Snuggly Duckling. A stupidly benign name, but it was bait to put the prey at ease. Secondary bait was the storm that had whipped itself up, unsummoned by Gothel, but she was grateful to the weather for cooperating with her plan. What better than a cozy inn to shelter in from a raging storm?

Soaked to the skin, shivering, and almost as miserable as she’d been when she’d woken still tied to the tree, Rapunzel rode Maximus up to the porch. He stood still so that she could dismount with as little walking as possible and made sure she was stable on her sprained knee before backing off a few steps. From her shoulder, Pascal sneezed and urged her toward the door, though he ducked between her hair and the back of her neck to stay out of sight (and out of the rain). Still clinging to her hair, the Sundrop knocked on the door, and soon a lovely middle-aged woman with a gorgeous fall of curly black hair opened it, her grey eyes wide with concern.

“Goodness me, child, come in out of that wretched rain!” she urged, waving Rapunzel into the inn. “We have food and drink and a warm bed and plenty of hot water for a bath.”

Smiling nervously, Rapunzel did as she was bid, glancing over her shoulder at Maximus with a tentative smile. No one but he and Pascal had shown her any kindness since she’d landed, and having someone do so now made her feel small and nervous. Especially given that she’d never been to an inn before now. She missed the predatory way Gothel looked at her as she passed her.

Gothel looked out the door at the white horse with the stern brown eyes. She arched an eyebrow at him and slammed the door before turning back to the Sundrop with a beautiful smile in place.

“How do you like your bath, my dear? Warm, hot, or boil-a-lobster?”

Tucked behind Rapunzel’s hair, Pascal was terrified! He recognized the witch, and knew he needed to warn Rapunzel, but to his shame, he couldn’t get his little body to  _ move _ . It was one thing to escape his cage unnoticed. It was one thing to cling, unseen, to her cloak. It was one thing to run away from her with growing shadows hiding his every movement. It was another thing entirely to actually come out where she could see him in direct defiance of everything she was trying to achieve here. He’d seen what the witch did to animals, and how she treated humans. She would have no compunctions with ripping his tiny tummy open, or throwing him into the fire, or ripping his tiny tummy open  _ then  _ throwing him into the fire! And Pascal didn’t want to die.

Rapunzel was looking around the inn, at the delightfully crooked room and the fish skeletons mounted on the walls like trophies. She exchanged a shy smile with the young brunette woman who was, it would seem, the daughter of the innkeeper woman. She had never had a bath before, so the woman’s question caught her off guard. Sundrops didn’t need to bathe, because they didn’t get dirty. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized just how filthy she’d gotten on this journey of hers. She could feel the mud on her bare feet and between her toes, and just knew her dress must be dirty, too. Who knew how much dirt she’d picked up on her crash landing? She certainly hadn’t seen a mirror since then! She hugged her soaking hair. It was no longer keeping her dry, nor she it. “I honestly have no idea,” she confessed softly.

“Then let me choose for you, and I’ll have my husband take your horse to the stable. No sense in making him stand out in the rain while you get all warm and dry.” She reached out a hand, a hand that she was all-too-aware was looking rather old at this point, and smoothed the young woman’s wet sunshine blonde hair. Fortunately for her, Rapunzel’s attention was on her face and not her hand. “Shorty?”

The little old man had been asleep in the empty bathtub, but he sat up at once with a bleary smile and announced, “Happy birthday!” Rapunzel started at his sudden appearance.

Gothel rolled her eyes, “The horse,” she told him, and Shorty pulled himself from the tub to go stable Maximus.

“Now, let’s get you out of your wet things, shall we?” Gothel nodded to Dwayne, who was more than happy to help the petite blonde undress.

They prepared the bath and set her clothes by the fire to dry, no one noticing that the Moonstone fell from her pocket and rolled over onto the hearth as she changed out of her wet things, nor as the baby chameleon left the safety of her shoulder to hide amongst her drying clothes. Shorty trundled along in the rain, oddly sure-footed given the amount of mud, walking Maximus toward the adjoining stables.

As Rapunzel experienced a hot bath for the first time in her life, she couldn’t believe how much better she was feeling almost at once. Who knew that comfort came from being warm? Well, she supposed  _ she  _ ought to have, given that she was a Sundrop, but since she’d never been  _ cold  _ before, she hadn’t realized how extremely unpleasant it could be.

The water was soothing, and soaked into her skin and bones, making her feel like a new woman. Her yards and yards of hair trailed away from the tub, drying in the warmth of the room. Gothel had tasked Dwayne with toweling it dry and combing it out as best as he could without pulling. That at least kept him out of the sight line of Rapunzel’s naked body, which he’d kept unsubtly ogling. Gothel wanted her comfortable, after all.

Gothel stayed by the tub’s edge, tending to Rapunzel’s every whim, and making kind conversation when nothing was requested of her. “Are you feeling any better, pet?” she asked with a winning smile.

“Yes, much. Thank you,” Rapunzel replied, her own smile serene. “The warm water’s actually doing me a world of good. I just wish it could do something about my knee.”

“I did notice that it was swollen and that you limped in here. Whatever happened there?”

“Oh, I… I fell,” the Sundrop answered, brow furrowing slightly at the memory. What a fall it had been! “And I guess I landed on it. It’s been killing me all day.”

“Well here! Let me,” Gothel smiled. “There’s an ancient song I know that often helps me feel better when I’ve got pains.”

“A song?” Rapunzel asked. “You mean, like an incantation?”

“Something like that.”

Gothel waved her hand over the water, then strummed her fingers through as though it were an instrument.

♫  _ Flower, gleam and glow _

_ Let your power shine _

_ Make the clock reverse _

_ Bring back what once was mine _

_ Heal what has been hurt _

_ Change the Fates’ design _

_ Save what has been lost _

_ Bring back what once was mine _

_ What once was mine… _ ♫

As she sang, a golden glow shimmered through the water, sending out tendrils of sparkling light that wrapped around Rapunzel’s knee, easing away the pain, reducing the swelling, and restoring her knee to full health. And stranger than that, Rapunzel felt the song in her very bones, as if it belonged to her,  _ with  _ her. It resonated through her and made her scalp tingle and her heart hammer with inner strength. Every ache and pain she’d accumulated since her fall, even the profundity of the bad thoughts she’d been having, all vanished at once. It was as if those golden tendrils of light had wrapped around her, clinging to her skin as sunlight does on a breezy summer day. She gasped softly, surprised at all the many things she’d felt in the span of two short stanzas.

“How’s that?” Gothel wondered warmly.

“That’s amazing!” Rapunzel breathed. “Thank you so much! That’s a real gift!”

“Oh, it only works on minor aches and pains, it’s nothing, really,” the woman told her modestly. “It’s the least I could do. I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” She looked over at Rapunzel’s smile and her own grew. “You look happier, too.”

“I  _ am _ happier,” Rapunzel admitted. “Less troubled. You see? I  _ knew  _ there was more than one person in the world who-- Well, it doesn’t matter. Just… thank you. I feel so much better than when I got here.”

“Wonderful,” Gothel beamed. “Daughter, fetch a towel.”

Wordlessly, Dwayne left off combing more hair than he’d ever seen in his life and brought a fresh towel, averting his gaze to avoid a glare from Gothel now, or worse later, and Rapunzel stepped from the tub, a noticeable, golden glow haloing her.

She dried off and dressed in the fluffy robe that was offered to her, then followed the lady of the inn up to her room for the night. Still camouflaging, Pascal made his presence known by rubbing against the back of her neck, and as content as she was already feeling, Rapunzel felt even better knowing he was there.

“Now,” Gothel told her as she turned down the comforter on the cushiony bed, “I’m only a simple innkeeper’s wife, but I’ve been told I have a healer’s hands.”

“Given that song, I believe it!” Rapunzel beamed, and her glow brightened.

Gothel laughed sweetly at that. “Thank you, dear. I’d be glad to give you a massage.”

Rapunzel paused, brow furrowing slightly again. “What’s a massage?” she wondered.

“You’ve never had a-- well goodness me, flower. There’s nothing like a massage to send you off into the finest, deepest night’s sleep.”

Sleep! The very word practically made Rapunzel yawn. Yes, she’d been dirty from the road, and cold, and achy, but she was also exhausted. Sleeping sitting upright against a tree hadn’t been particularly sound or deep, and she’d been walking for miles since the night before. “That sounds great!” she enthused, and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

As soon as she was seated, Pascal was down her back and across the bed, blending in with the bedding as he moved. He scurried down the bedpost to the floor, panting heavily as he tried to think of a plan, a way to warn Rapunzel before it was too late. That was when he spotted the knife.

“Then lie down on your back, dear. Get extra comfortable.”

Again, Rapunzel did as she was bid, and as the mattress cushioned her back and legs and arms, and the pillow cradled her neck and head, she felt for a moment like she must be laying on a cloud. Massage or no, she was sure she was going to get a good night’s sleep tonight.

“Why not close your eyes? It’ll help you relax.” she stroked her fingers through Rapunzel’s golden hair again, noting the shine around her. “You’ll drift off better that way.”

Smiling, Rapunzel did just that, and the cloudlike sensation only increased. Laying this way, Gothel slightly parted the collar of the robe she was wearing, gently prodding at her exposed chest with her fingertips. With her other hand, she reached under the bed, where she’d stowed the black rock knife she was going to cut the Sundrop’s heart out with. Pascal darted towards the dagger, intent on grabbing it and pulling it out of her reach, buying Rapunzel at least a little more time.

But just before her hand closed over it, a loud pounding erupted from downstairs, and a woman’s voice rang out. “Hello? Is this inn staffed or not?”

Gothel froze in fury.

Outside, Adira pounded on the door again. “Service!” she called out. She could survive in the wilderness just fine, but she was in a hurry and she was grumpy and a little bit of actual comfort would probably do her and her new travelling companion some good.

“Maybe we should try the next inn over,” Eugene suggested from beside the caravan. He stroked the nose of a striking white horse with black spots. “Especially if this Moonstone is as close as your fortune teller map thingy says it is.”

Adira sighed and glared at the door. “You’re right,” she conceded. “I’ll give it one more try and then we’re gone from here.”

As she pounded on the door again, Gothel gave Rapunzel a warm smile. “Relax here, my love. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken care of this other customer.”

Rapunzel smiled up at her with a nod, and Gothel was away.

Shorty was the first to the door, which he opened with his nose, nudging it like a clever animal without opposable thumbs. “Finally,” Adira snapped. “It’s pouring out here. Normally this weather wouldn’t bother me, but I’m in a hurry and we require accommodations. Take my horses to the stable.”

“Sure thing, Mert!” the short man announced, and staggered past her.

As Adira made her way in, Gothel prepared to greet her in the most sinister way she could, pouring an entire bottle of poison into a goblet of warm wine.

“Hello?” Adira called out, but as she looked around, she realized there was a hot bath already waiting. After the day she’d had, it was more than she could resist. So while Eugene helped the innkeeper with the horses, she disrobed and sunk into the warm water. Edmund’s dead siblings and Quirin watched on in spectral form, lined up against the wall.

In her room, Rapunzel couldn’t help but wonder what was keeping the kind innkeeper’s wife. Her ease was ebbing away, and her glow fading to nearly nothing as her concern grew. But before she could put much thought into it, Pascal decamouflaged and appeared on the bed, squeaking in alarm.

“What is it?” she wondered, turning to look at him. He looked panicked, but she still couldn’t understand his squeaking, and his gestures were wild. Something about… punching his hand? Hitting? Something that happened downstairs?

“Oh! There’s something going on down there that you think I should see?”

It wasn’t what he meant, but at least it would get her out of this room, and maybe once they were downstairs, he could try again to convince her to  _ leave _ .

Rapunzel got up and adjusted her robe, let Pascal crawl into her hand, then up onto her shoulder where he camouflage with the robe, and headed downstairs to seek out her hostess. Once at the base of the stairs, she spotted the Moonstone on the floor by the fireplace before she spotted the woman in the tub, and hurried to pick it back up.

“Ah, there you are,” Adira said sullenly to the bent-over young woman. Rapunzel straightened at once. “I’m used to better service than this. Most people wouldn’t leave the Brotherhood unattended for so long.”

The spirits, watching the scene unfold, gasped and pointed and got each other’s attention. “The Moonstone! She’s got the Moonstone!” they announced to each other. Adira was so close to success!

“I’m sorry, the who?” Rapunzel asked.

“I’ll thank you not to disturb my guests,” Gothel chastised, interrupting the conversation as she swept into the room with the goblet on a platter. “I am the lady of this inn. Would you like a glass of wine while you relax?”

“No no no no no,” Quirin cautioned from where he sat by the window.

Adira looked up at the woman, then nodded graciously. “No. Until Hector is dead, I’ve vowed only to drink my own wine.”

Gothel smiled at her, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes.

“Though my friend in the stables might be glad for a drop. He’s been complaining about the cold for an hour.”

Gothel continued to smile down at the other woman, an wooden edge to the curl of her lips that didn’t go unnoticed by Adira.

“Your best room, perhaps?” she prompted the dark-haired woman.

“Of course,” Gothel obliged, her smile spreading. She turned away and found herself faced by Dwayne, who smiled nervously. She sent a sharp look towards the stables and thrust the tray at the disguised man, then strode off to quickly work out how best to get done what she needed to do while appearing to ready a room for the unexpected guests.

Dwayne moved away from the bath and the warm fire, past Rapunzel, and Pascal transferred himself from Rapunzel to Dwayne, shifting his colors to continue to blend in.

“I’m sorry,” Adira addressed Rapunzel. “I presumed that…”

Rapunzel didn’t answer her, not sure what she was supposed to say.

“Traveling alone? That’s not wise in Umbra. I just stabled my two mares and my caravan.” Rapunzel nodded along, still not sure what exactly was going on here. Did strangers just… talk to each other on Earth when they had no reason to? This woman seemed strangely demanding of her attention. Of course, she seemed strangle demanding of just about everyone. “Well, I say ‘mine,’ but really they belong to King Edmund. He’s letting me borrow them.”

Gothel raced upstairs, back to the room where she’d had the Sundrop relaxed, glowing, and ready to be slaughtered, and retrieved the black rock knife she’d stashed under the bed. 

Dwayne made his way to the stables to give the wine - wine which he didn’t know was spiked - to the man who’d arrived with the white-haired woman. He was tending to the horses, stroking the nose of the large brown mare as he calmed her. The white stallion the girl had come in with earlier was making eyes at that horse, and she was pointedly ignoring him.

Hearing footsteps approach, Eugene turned to find a young woman who appeared to be the inn’s barmaid approaching. She had a goblet on a platter, which she offered him.

“Oh wow, thanks!” he said, accepting the goblet. “This’ll really take the edge off the chill outside, am I right? Name’s Flynn Rider,” he added, and quirked his eyebrow at the pretty girl with a grin. “What’s yours?”

“Dwayne,” the… person responded in what most definitely sounded like a voice of the sex that matched the name.

Clutching the knife, Gothel hurried back downstairs. If she had to kill two women tonight, so be it. It would be no skin off her nose, and she absolutely had to get the Sundrop’s heart, no matter the condition.

“There’s not a beast in land or sky that he can’t tame,” Adira was saying. “So much so that he tamed a murder of crows to act as his messengers. They’ll go out into the world and return to him with news of far-off places. All except Hamuel. Hamuel is… let’s just say that King Edmund is a kind man for not putting him out of his misery.”

“She’s got the Moonstone!!!” the spirits were chorusing, unheard by the living.

“That’s fascinating…” Rapunzel hedged, rolling the Moonstone between her fingers. “But if you’ll excuse me, I was just heading to bed.”

Adira looked up at her then, saw what she had in her hand, and let out a startled, “Wait!” It wasn’t like her to be surprised, but the past few days had been just filled with them. “What’s that you’ve got in your hand? It can’t be!”

“Finally!” Edmund’s long-dead sister groaned, to the agreement of her brothers.

“Come here,” Adira went on, holding her hand out. “Let me see it.”

In the stables, Eugene was still shaking off his encounter with the strange woman (if, indeed, that had been a woman). Just as he was bringing the goblet to his lips, a frantic queaking caught his attention, and when he looked, he saw a little green… frog? Seriously, it was small, and it was squeaking at him and waving its little front feet frantically. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. But before he could figure out what it wanted, the white stallion stabled next to Fidella, who he’d been tending to, whinnied loudly and reared up on his hind legs. His hooves came crashing down on the stall door, and as the wood splintered, Eugene couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into the animals tonight! His next thought was that perhaps the frog had been talking to the horse, but he didn’t get a chance to complete that thought, because the horse burst from the stall, barrelling him over and knocking the wine goblet from his hand and into the straw.

Eugene stared up at the horse, absolutely flabbergasted. But his befuddlement only got worse when the horse pointed with a front hoof.  _ This might as well happen _ , crossed his mind, and he looked to where the horse was pointing. In the straw, the goblet lay, its contents smoking with their caustic properties, and suddenly Eugene understood. A nanosecond later, he recalled the voice from the sky telling him that a chameleon and a horse had saved Rapunzel earlier, and suddenly everything clicked into place.

_ She was here! _

“You have no idea what you’re meddling with,” Adira warned, her stress growing and her anger with it. “I am Adira, chosen to the Brotherhood by King Edmund of Umbra, and I demand that you bring that stone to me!”

Brow furrowed, Rapunzel took a step away from the tub, her hand closing tightly over the rock that had knocked her from the sky. Everything about this situation was freaking her out, from the way the woman before her in the bath was acting to the strange thing Pascal had been trying to tell her in her room.

“Bring me the stone! Now!” Adira rose from the bath to her full height, water streaming off her skin. But just as she did, Flynn burst in through the door. Rapunzel was more than startled to see him, but everything was happening around her so fast, sending her into a near-panic.

“Adira, don’t touch anything they give you! They tried to poison--!”

But it was too late. As he shouted his warning, Gothel strode up behind the much taller woman without hesitation and ran her through with the black blade of her knife. Quirin and Edmund’s kin all cringed in distress and groaned as Adira’s specter joined their ranks.

“Well,” Quirin, who had known her best, sighed, “you gave it your best shot. I just hope that girl can keep the Moonstone away from Hector.”

“Has anyone got a shroud I can wrap around myself?” Adira deadpanned.

Rapunzel was too stunned to scream, too stunned to react, but it didn’t seem to matter, because Flynn was at her side in an instant, holding her arms to get her attention back on him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and in that moment, Rapunzel realized that he’d never seemed so concerned for her since they met.

“Shorty!” Gothel called out, and as the drunken old man rose from where he’d been lying on the bar, she finished her command. “Get him!”

Without hesitation, Shorty ran at Flynn shouting some kind of weak battlecry and flailing a fish like it was a weapon. A moment later, Maximus burst through the door, Pascal on his head. He turned and kicked the oncoming little old man, who flew back against the far wall, transforming back into a goat upon impact.

Max then turned on Gothel, practically breathing fire in his fury and need to protect the Sundrop. Unperturbed, Gothel raised a finger and shot a column of green fire at him, which enveloped the two creatures.

_ Look, we never see Pascal and Max again in this story, and for the sake of argument, and because I like a happy ending, I’m just going to declare that somehow they escaped, remained the best of friends, and Max got a promotion and is now co-captain of the guard. _

Alarmed for the animals that had saved him from a sound poisoning, but knowing an opportunity when he saw one, Eugene grabbed Rapunzel’s hand with a quick, “Run!” and pulled her toward the open door. But they weren’t fast enough, and Gothel turned her attention on them, blocking their escape with another line of fire, and then surrounding them with the green flames, trapping them in the building.

“Stay behind me,” Eugene told Rapunzel, and he could feel her grip on his shoulder as she followed his order. His heart was pounding. He barely knew what was even going on, and he felt ill-equipped to handle the situation. But he knew he had to protect Rapunzel at all costs. He’d gotten her into this mess, it was his job to do everything he could to get her out of it.

The fire burned hot on all sides but one, and both terror and the inferno found Eugene sweating. He’d wanted to warm up when they got here, but this was not what he’d had in mind!

Gothel strode through the flames, as cool and collected as if they weren’t there, and Eugene backed away from her, always keeping himself between her and Rapunzel. He recognized her as the woman who had cut out the last Sundrop’s heart, and knew this woman spelled Rapunzel’s doom.

Brandishing the black rock knife, she spoke, not to Eugene, but to Rapunzel. “The burning golden heart of a Sundrop at peace is so much better than your frightened little heart. But even so, it’s better than no heart at all.”

As they paced backwards away from her advances, Eugene kept looking around, trying to find some means of escape. Not the rafters, not the overturned tables, not through the fire itself… it seemed that the witch had blocked off every potential exit. He hadn’t planned to die today. He hadn’t planned on dying on this adventure at all. All he’d planned to do was find a drop of liquid sunlight, bottle it, and bring it home to Stalyan. Now he found himself scrambling for a way to survive even a minute longer, and more importantly, he found himself scrambling to rescue Rapunzel from her apparent fate.

Thinking of this trip, this adventure, reminded him how it all started, and the green flames burning all around them gave him an idea. They were backed all the way against the wall, the witch advancing slowly, menacingly. She raised her knife, not as a threat, but as a promise of things to come.

“Rapunzel!” he told the terrified woman behind him. “Hold on tight and think of home.” He reached into the pocket and pulled out the remains of the Neserdnian candle, then thrust his entire hand into the fire directly beside them. The flames were even hotter than he imagined they’d be, despite the heat radiating off of them, the searing pain so intense he couldn’t have dropped the black wax if he tried. He cried out in agony, but thought as hard as he could about Vardaros, about the wall, about the hill where he’d gotten Stalyan’s half-promise, about his work station at the cobbler’s. The wick lit, and a moment later, he and the Sundrop were whisked away from imminent doom, and Gothel was left stabbing her wicked blade directly into the stonework that had been at their backs only a moment before.

The flames around her vanished, and she screamed her anger and frustration and  _ failure _ to the storming sky.

_ And in those self-same skies, streaking upward so fast they couldn’t even track it, two young people, who if asked two days ago, never thought they would be on an adventure tonight, flew straight upward, traveling by golden candlelight. They went neither to Vardaros, nor back to the sun, but somewhere in between. After all, when you tell a Sundrop to think of home, she’s going to think of  _ **_her_ ** _ home, not yours. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to LionRoar74 and GeekWonder! I'm not saying that I never would have finished this fic, because I have every intention of finishing, but life has been really busy and I've been feeling a little sapped, creatively-speaking, but the comments I got from you guys last month really spurred me into action on writing this chapter!
> 
> I hope the switching back and forth between calling him Eugene and Flynn in the narration is clear that it has to do with the POV character of the moment.


	6. The Story of How I Bamboozled Pirates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re not… we’re not so different, it seems.” He couldn’t believe he was doing this, because he didn’t do backstory. Telling her all about his life up until now not only broke that, it utterly destroyed the fake reputation he’d built up with her, destroyed the Flynn Rider persona. And yet, with a deep breath, he pressed on. “In Vardaros, I was a cobbler. I only read about adventures like this, and mostly in the orphanage. And sure, I wanted to have one, but I didn’t have the guts to just… go out and do it. Instead, I stayed close to where I was born, making shoes for people who would wear them to far away places, and dreamed of being someone else. Flynn Rider’s not even my real name. My real name’s Eugene Fitzherbert.”
> 
> He expected her to laugh. He braced for the sound of it, but it didn’t come. After a pause, he pressed on.
> 
> “But no one likes Eugene, not even me. And so when I set out on my adventure, I decided I’d be Flynn. A bunch of people I was never going to see again? What did it matter if they called me by a made up name? At least I’d have a few days of being the man I always wanted to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new chapter! Thanks for sticking with me this far!

_ It was a dark and stormy night. Yes, I know that’s a cliché way to begin a story, but as you may recall, this isn’t the beginning. And this wasn’t the usual kind of dark and stormy night. Or perhaps it was, but our heroes were experiencing it not from inside a cozy building, warmed by a fire, or even from a cold and muddy road, but from the thick of things. _

_ I bet you didn’t know that clouds will support your weight. Well, they will. Or at least they will in Umbra. In a manner of speaking. They don’t support it very well. I mean, it’s not like you’re in danger of sinking through, but the substance shifts under your feet constantly, and it’s difficult to keep your footing. And let me tell you, it’s not exactly fun to be standing on top of a thunderhead with freezing wind and rain whipping around you, not to mention lighting shooting everywhere, so close that your hair is standing on end - quite a feat, given that your hair is also completely soaked from the storm! And the sound? Oh mama, there is nothing compared to the sound of thunder when it is literally all around you, coming from the very clouds you’re surrounded by. It’s so loud and strong that you can feel it rattle your bones, your  _ **_soul_ ** _. Not fun, let me tell you. _

_ You know what else is not fun? Being confused as to why you’re there when you were certain you were going to land on either side of a short wall with nothing remarkable about it except a strangely interesting hole in it, because after all, only an insane man would think you could  _ **_actively stand on a cloud, highly endangered of being struck by very close lightning!_ **

Rapunzel screamed in alarm as a bolt slashed through the sky near them, scrambling onto Eugene’s back to get away from it, but the next bolt sent her jumping away from him, as if dodging back and forth was actually any defense against lightning when you’re water-soaked and standing on top of the very clouds producing said lightning.

Maybe it wasn’t very becoming of a hero (or a man who considered himself one, after the brilliant stunt he’d just pulled), but Eugene glared at the terrified woman. “What the hell did you do?!” he demanded over the roar of thunder and the sizzle of ionized air.

“What did  _ I _ do?!” she demanded back, her voice shrill with panicked fury. “What did  _ you _ do?! ‘Think of home!’ you said, what a  _ great  _ plan! You thought of your home and I thought of mine and now we’re halfway between them both!”

“You wha-- you  _ idiot! _ ” he raged right back. It wasn’t a nice way to talk to a lady, he knew, but at that exact moment, he was feeling far from charitable. In fact, he was relatively sure that they’d just escaped death only to land directly back into its maw. “Why did you think of  _ your  _ home?!”

“You just said, ‘home!’ If you wanted me to think of  _ your  _ home, you should have been more specific!”

“Some crazy witch was going to cut your heart out and you wanted more specific instructions?! You  _ knew  _ I was taking you back to Vardaros! Maybe I should have put it in writing or drawn you a damn picture instead of just using my words!”

The argument was cut short, though, when a heavy net dropped on them from above.

_ As if this could get any weirder, right? Reminder: we’re standing on a cloud in the middle of a storm, and yet something is  _ **_above_ ** _ us to drop a net on us. _

With twin yelps, the two were pulled through the cloudstuff, disoriented and more confused than ever, until they abruptly found themselves on a wooden floor, surrounded by the most cutthroat-looking group of ruffians and thugs that Eugene had ever laid eyes on. And he thought the Baron’s cronies were bad!

Several of the men lowered tinted goggles and they all backed away from the pair. “Look, Captain Strongbow!” the one directly in front of them called. “We’ve caught ourselves a little bonus! A couple of Lightning Marshals!”

The sea of men parted to reveal one man, tall and broad in the shoulder. He strode toward them and leaned in with a scowl. Eugene and Rapunzel gasped and leaned away from him. Without thinking to, Eugene subtly put himself in front of her, shielding her from this crew of… well, what could he think of them other than pirates?

The man who had been addressed as Captain Strongbow looked them over, and his scowl softened to a confused frown. He leaned back over to the man who’d addressed him - a portly fellow with a hook for a foot - and commented, “They don’t look like Lightning Marshals to me, Hook Foot.”

The man addressed as Hook Foot removed his tinted goggles to get a better look at them. “What else would they be doing up here in the middle of a storm, though?”

“‘What else would they be doing up here in the middle of a storm?’” Captain Strongbow echoed, as though considering the question. But then he turned on the hook-footed man and bellowed, “Maybe for the same godforsaken reason  _ we’re _ up here in the middle of a storm!” Turning his attention back to the duo he asked, “Now, who are you?”

Flabbergasted and gobsmacked, Eugene’s jaw could only hang open as he and Rapunzel exchanged panicked looks. Neither managed to come up with a lie fast enough that might impress the pirates, and he was pretty sure the truth wouldn’t fly, either. After what had happened less than a half an hour before, he was not about to announce that Rapunzel was a Sundrop, after all.

“Let’s see if a night in our lovely brig will loosen their tongues,” Captain Strongbow smirked. “Get ‘em below.”

“You heard the man!” Hook Foot called out to the others. “Let’s go! Get ‘em to the brig, and the rest of you bozos get back to work! We’ve got lightning to catch!”

The net was removed from around Rapunzel and Eugene, and they were unceremoniously carted off, like oversized fish that had been pulled up from the sea.

_ The vessel we were on - the SS Bolty (stupid name, I know) - was actually pretty cool. To the casual observer, it just looks like a sailing ship. But towards the stern, there were these fantastic wing-looking things, all made up of metal and wire. And just like how a lightning rod conducts lightning from the sky and safely grounds it so that it doesn’t do damage to your house, these wing things caught lightning from the storm. But instead of directing it safely into the ground (how would it even do that this high up in the air), it directed it into canisters. That’s right, canisters. These guys fly around and collect lightning into storage containers that can then be used elsewhen. We’ll get more on that, later. _

The brig was more like a storage room than anything else. The air was heavy with a mixture of scents, none of them particularly pleasant and some of them downright odiferous. Unused furniture, machinery parts, crates and barrels and an unused suit of armor on full display were stacked all along the walls, and there were… things hanging from the ceiling, some of it drying meat (which would account, in part, for the smell), some of it bags full of who knew what, swaying with the movement of the ship, along with ropes and chains and other devices that gave the impression of a torture chamber. Rapunzel didn’t suppose that sky pirates had visitors that needed to be imprisoned very often, or perhaps that the smell was a part of the torture. She and Flynn were tied back-to-back and wrist-to-wrist with her hair (she was getting tired of her hair being used to keep her captive) in the middle of the room, sitting on canvas-covered blocks, which were only marginally more comfortable to sit on than actual stone.

The whole situation just felt so dire, that hope was vanishing like morning mist.

They’d been left alone, probably to contemplate their fates in the hands of these pirates. She had tried at first to struggle free of the bonds, but just like when Flynn had tied her to the tree, there was no hope of breaking them. There was also no hope of Maximus and Pascal coming to her rescue again.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently as she tried and tried to break her unbreakable hair. “It’s no use. If you couldn’t get yourself free when I tied you up, there’s no chance when pirates do it. I’m just a cobbler. Knots are their livelihood.”

She stopped then, her chest heaving with the rising panic. This was literally the worst day of her life. She’d thought yesterday had been bad, but this was so, so much worse. How many times was she expected to face death in one day? Her chest felt tight and her throat hurt as she tried to resist crying. She didn’t want that to be her last act.

“They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” she asked softly, the tears evident in her voice.

“... I don’t know…” he answered, and she was grateful for his honesty. False bravado was all well and good, but it could also be useless, raising hopes to believe that some miracle was going to happen, only to have them dashed later when that miracle never came.

Reality settled in on her, and her shoulders slumped. “You know, I used to watch… I’d sit up in the sun and watch people on Earth having adventures, really living. I envied them. But it’s a Sundrop’s duty to spread sunshine and life. We’re not supposed to go traipsing about the world, free of care or responsibility. So, I never left, and…”

“... You never left the sun before?” he asked slowly.

It seemed obvious to Eugene that she hadn’t, but at the same time, he thought of all the sunshine that fell on the Earth and suddenly wondered where it came from and how and why and if every sunny day was because thousands of people - people just like her - were doing their jobs on the sun and giving the gift of a lovely day to the people on Earth while never experiencing one for themselves.

“And you’re still going to go back?”

“Of course I am! It’s my-- I’m-- It’s complicated…”

He listened to how small her voice was, how uncertain, how emotional, and he suddenly felt like she shouldn’t have to return to the sun if she didn’t want to. But of course she wanted to. She’d spent all this time trying to go back, doing what he’d asked so he’d give her the rest of the Neserdnian candle. But he’d gone and used it.

“You ever hear the saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for’?” he wondered.

“Oh, so ending up with my heart cut out would serve me right?” she asked tearfully.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured her gently. “We’re not… we’re not so different, it seems.” He couldn’t believe he was doing this, because he didn’t do backstory. Telling her all about his life up until now not only broke that, it utterly destroyed the fake reputation he’d built up with her, destroyed the Flynn Rider persona. And yet, with a deep breath, he pressed on. “In Vardaros, I was a cobbler. I only read about adventures like this, and mostly in the orphanage. And sure, I wanted to have one, but I didn’t have the guts to just… go out and do it. Instead, I stayed close to where I was born, making shoes for people who would wear them to far away places, and dreamed of being someone else. Flynn Rider’s not even my real name. My real name’s Eugene Fitzherbert.”

He expected her to laugh. He braced for the sound of it, but it didn’t come. After a pause, he pressed on.

“But no one likes Eugene, not even me. And so when I set out on my adventure, I decided I’d be Flynn. A bunch of people I was never going to see again? What did it matter if they called me by a made up name? At least I’d have a few days of being the man I always wanted to be.” He smiled softly in the gloom of the brig, thinking about the past few days, the adventure, and the girl he was tied to who, he was realizing, he didn’t really want to never see again after this. “When I left, I thought I was just going to find a liquid drop I could put in a bottle and take home, and that would be it for my trip.”

“And instead, you got me,” she answered, and there was the laugh he’d been expecting. Only it wasn’t at his expense, and somehow the soft sound of it soothed his heart a little. She laughed more, and it was such a pretty sound that he couldn’t help but chuckle, too.

After their moment of mirth died down, Rapunzel took a deep breath. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching Earth all these years, it’s that people aren’t always what they seem, even to themselves. There’s cobblers, and then there’s people who make shoes because they want those shoes to be able to go somewhere exciting. Trust me… you’re meant to have the adventures you’ve been reading about. You saved my life back there. Thank you. And for the record? I like Eugene Fitzherbert much better than Flynn Rider.”

She felt around with her hand to take his, and he yelped at the pain. She immediately let go. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry!”

“No it’s just… I burned it when I was lighting the candle,” he explained. “Honestly, I’d kind of forgotten about that until now.”

Rapunzel was quiet a moment longer before deciding that if there was one way to repay him, she could do something about that hand. Even if they were to die, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with that discomfort until then.

“I learned a song at the inn,” she told him. “I think it might help your hand.”

~*~*~

Far below the flying ship, in a field where it was no longer raining and where there was no longer an inn, Hector stood over a lone bathtub where Adira’s body lay, stab wound still evident, draining blood staining the bathwater. The tub and an overturned goat cart were all that was there in the soggy field.

“Well, well, well,” he mused, looking at his deceased ‘sister’ without the slightest hint of sadness. “The last of us has fallen. Which means that I’m king.”

He took a moment, as the realization sunk in. There was no one left to oppose him! With a triumphant look, he turned toward the men who had been travelling with him and declared, “I’m king!” loudly for all to hear. They all quickly knelt.

As Hector strode from Adira’s corpse, he did not not see her spirit settling beside him, nor those of Quirin or Edmund’s siblings gathered around the tub. “Not yet, Hector,” she said.

And although he could not hear her, the same realization struck him as well. “Damn, I still need the Moonstone!”

“Adira doesn’t have it?” one of his men wondered, and a cruel smile slithered across Hector’s face.

“Well, why don’t you find out?”

The guard swallowed and moved past Hector to do as he’d been bidden. The almost-king turned to watch him go, his triumphant mood prepared to be completely spoiled by circumstances. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed his ankle, and with a shout, Hector extended the retractable blade from his sleeve and brought it around to dispatch the threat.

It turned out to be a man who had been cowering under the cart. Hector had him by the collar, blade at his throat, in an instant. “Where’s my stone?” he demanded.

Dwayne yelped and swallowed hard. “I don’t-- Oh, oh! The woman, your… her…” he gestured vaguely towards Adira. “I heard her speak of a stone. The girl had it! The girl!”

Confused, Hector pressed the blade until it bit flesh. “What girl?” He glanced over his shoulder where the guard was searching the murky bathwater for the Moonstone.

“The girl with all the hair!” Dwayne hurried to explain. “She got away! Because this was a trap set up for her, but that woman - your sister? - she came straight into it.”

“A trap? Set by who?” Hector demanded evenly.

“A woman you should pray you’ll never meet. She’s gone, though. She took your sister’s caravan.”

“And this woman wanted my stone?”

“No,” Dwayne explained. “She wanted the girl’s heart. She said the girl was a Sundrop, and she wanted to cut out her heart and…” He grimaced, cringing at the very idea of what it was the witch wanted to do.

But Hector knew. The Brotherhood was privy to all sorts of tales and legends and truths. “Eat it.” The dwindling triumph in his heart was beginning to flare again. If he played his cards right, he could have the Moonstone  _ and  _ eternal life. “Fates… do you know what this means?”

Dwayne shook his head, not at all sure what it meant, nor that he wanted to know.

“I’ll be king of Umbra  _ forever _ ,” Hector provided.

Getting to his feet, he hauled Dwayne up after him, just as his guard finished searching the bath.

“It’s not here, sire.”

“This idiot’s coming with us,” Hector informed him and all the rest of the men as well, and he dragged him back onto the road with them.

~*~*~

The caravan Gothel had stolen raced down the road. She’d enchanted the horses to know where to go so she could travel inside without having to worry about driving. A part of her regretted that now, as she looked at her reflection in the window. She could see the age hanging in loose skin on her face. With a sigh, she combed her fingers through her hair in frustration and gasped in alarm when a huge chunk of stringy, greying hair came free in her hand.

Agitated did not begin to express her mood as she rubbed the ring on her finger to call to the others.

“I need to find the Sundrop,  _ now _ ,” she pressed. “Scry again, ask where she is again.”

“We  _ have  _ asked again,” Tromus barked. His patience with Gothel was wearing as thin as her hair was apparently becoming. “And the answer is always the same! She is airborne!”

“Then inform me the instant she’s on the ground again!  _ Immediately _ , do you understand?!”

“Watch your tongue, Gothel,” Sugracha chided. “It’s you, not us, who’ve lost her.”

“Lost her  _ and  _ the black rock knife!” Tromus added. “Even if you somehow manage to catch up to her at this point, how do you intend to complete the deed?”

“Perhaps it’s time for you to come home, and one of us will set out in your place,” Sugracha suggested, and Tromus nodded in agreement.

Gothel was incensed by the very suggestion. “Don’t be ridiculous, do you even hear yourselves? I’ll bring her home and deal with her there. Be sure everything is ready for our arrival.”

~*~*~

Aboard the  _ SS Bolty _ , Rapunzel and Eugene had spent hours alone in the brig together. Hours, and no one had come to kill them yet. The skies, while not clear, were also no longer stormy, and the light that streamed through the clouds as they sailed pierced the gloom of the brig in bits and pieces.

Eugene’s hand had been healed by the song that Rapunzel had sung for him, and now they were at least on friendly terms, no longer at each other’s throats. They’d passed the time talking about themselves, about their lives, distracting themselves and each other from their supposed fates. She’d explained about the society of Sundrops and what their work was, how they sent light to Earth to help warm it and enable plants to grow. He told her about growing up in the orphanage and what life in Vardaros was like.

“Tell me about Stalyan,” she requested. Honestly, he’d spoken about her a lot, but Rapunzel hadn’t been in the mood to actually hear it. But she was ready, now. Anything to keep him talking.

He was quiet so long that she wasn’t sure he’d heard her, but then he stuttered, “Well, she… she…” And then he went quiet again for a short time. “There’s actually… nothing left to tell you. I’ve said it all.”

This gave Rapunzel pause. In all he’d told her during their travels, Stalyan hadn’t seemed a particularly nice person. Who sent a potential suitor off on a trial to prove themselves?

“It’s just that… from what little I know about love,  _ real  _ love, it’s unconditional,” she expressed gently. “It’s not something you can buy.”

“Wait, hold up,” Eugene protested. “This wasn’t about me buying her love. This was a way for me to prove how I felt.”

“Ah.” Rapunzel mulled that over, confused as ever about how human romance worked. Or at least how this particular romance worked. “And what’s she doing to prove how she feels about you?”

He floundered, and it was cute. She liked the way his voice caught as he tried to find the words. She also liked feeling like she’d caught him, and that she was absolutely right about her suspicions. Being definitely right was nice.

“Yeah, okay Blondie, smarty-pants,” he laughed. “Look, you’ll understand when you meet her, alright? Provided we don’t get murdered by pirates first, of course.”

She liked his laugh, she was discovering. She liked his voice, in general. It was a rich baritone that sounded like melted honey, a balm on her soul. So long as he kept giving her doses of his laughter, she was feeling better and better.

“Murdered by pirates,” she sighed with a smirk. “Heart cut out and eaten.  _ Meet Stalyan _ . I can’t decide which one of those sounds like more fun.”

~*~*~

“We’ve located the sky vessel,” Sugracha reported to Gothel. “It’s headed north to the port town in Koto, and you are no longer the only one seeking the Sundrop! There’s someone following your tracks!”

This was certainly news, and Gothel couldn’t even find it in herself to be angry, she was so surprised. “A fellow witch?” she guessed.

“A member of the Brotherhood, and he’s catching up fast! Get a move on!”

Needing no further urging, Gothel used a gesture to magically whip the stolen horses, getting them to go faster.

~*~*~

Captain Strongbow opened a window in the brig, looking out on the landscape far below and the cloudscape all around, and letting a little fresh air in. Sky ships didn’t tend to get as mildewy as the ones that spent their entire lives on water, but there was still no polite place to put human waste on a ship that would get it out of the crew’s nose entirely while also not potentially dropping it on some unwary traveler’s head. The brig was storage for many things.

After a few deep breaths of good, clean air, he turned back to his prisoners. He was alone with them, though he knew that his crew was listening at the door, always good to listen to threats and torture and maiming. “So!” he addressed them in a cheerful tone. “This is the part where you tell me who you are and why you’re up here. Or else I snap her pretty little fingers, one by one, like dry twigs.”

“My name is Eugene Fitzherbert,” Eugene told him, utterly terrified, but done with the bravado of the fake name. After all, if Rapunzel could like Eugene better than Flynn, maybe he should try, too. “And this is my wife, Rapunzel.”

“Your  _ wife? _ ” Captain Strongbow cooed, and circled over to look at her. “Far too radiant and young to belong to just  _ one  _ man. It’s share and share alike aboard my vessel!”

Outside the door, the pirates cheered, and Rapunzel looked that way in raising panic. Worse than torture! She’d been warned that the world of man was like this, but she’d decided, naively, not to believe it!

“If you dare even touch her--!” Eugene snarled, and struggled against his bonds, but carefully so. It might have been unbreakable, but it was still Rapunzel’s hair, and he didn’t want to pull it.

“You might think you’re showing spirit in front of your lady friend,” the captain said, and leaned down to get into Eugene’s face, “but if you talk back to me again, I’ll feed your tongue to the dogs, you impertinent little pup!”

Eugene swallowed, and tried again. “Sir?”

“Better!” Strongbow barked. “But still interrupting.” He stood once more and paced back and forth between them, considering his options. “Let’s see.” He raised his voice so the crew could hear. “A hanging’s always good for morale. Maybe we’ll watch you dance a gallow’s jig!”

They cheered again, and it was such an ugly sound to Rapunzel. How could people take delight in the torture and death of others? It was barbaric!

“Or perhaps,” he called out, “I’ll just tip you over the side and have done with it!”

That was met with boos and jeers.

“It’s a very long way down,” he explained to Eugene and Rapunzel. “Plenty of time to reminisce about your pitifully short lives.”

“Please,” Eugene begged. “Look, we’re just trying to make our way home, back to a place called Vardaros where I come from.”

“What did you say?” Captain Strongbow demanded.

“I said we’re trying to get home to Vardaros.”

In an instant, there was a knife at Eugene’s throat. “That’s one lie too many, boy.”

The crew pressed their ears to the door, trying to make out what was going on.

“Vardaros?” one with a big nose whispered.

“Shut up,” another hissed. “What’s he saying?”

From the other side of the door, they could clearly hear the captain yelling, “You thought you could just wander into my territory, did you?! And live to tell the tale?!” The woman was shrieking, and the men began to clench their fists and hiss in triumph at what it sounded like was going on.

“Is he…? He is! Yeah, he’s gonna--! On the deck, on the deck, on the deck! Now! Go, go, go!”

As one, the crew ran from the door and up to the deck, so they could witness the dispatching of the prisoners. Tipping them over the side wasn’t their favorite, but it was still a good show.

The captain was still roaring his displeasure at the captives. “Big mistake, Mr. Fitzherbert! And the last one you’ll ever make!”

The crew leaned over the rail above the brig’s window and watched in glee as a body when hurling out the window, Captain Strongbow leaning well over to watch the man fall. A moment later, he looked up at the crew, who hastily retreated from the dangerous look in his eye.

They heard the woman calling, “No! No! You ruffian! You murderer!” and Captain Strongbow hauled her onto the deck, kicking and struggling.

“I’m taking the girl to my cabin, and mark my words: anyone who disturbs me for the next few hours will get the same treatment.”

“Aye, captain,” Hook Foot said, and shut the door behind the pair, standing guard with a smug look. “Captain’s busy, and you should be, too,” he said, shooing the crew away with a wave of his hand.

“Get in there, wench!” Captain Strongbow bellowed as he unceremoniously shoved Rapunzel into his quarters. He slammed and locked the door behind them, and Eugene, dressed in nothing but his underwear, turned away from the view at the large window and flashed a smile. Rapunzel grinned over at him, catching her breath.

Captain Strongbow turned from the door with a sigh and a grin. “So, that went well, I thought!” he said cheerfully, his booming voice turned down to a soft murmur. “Now, give me news from beyond the wall. I haven’t been on that side in  _ years! _ ” He took Rapunzel’s hand and led her to his table, where Eugene joined them.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Rapunzel said, pushing her hair back from her face. “I can’t believe your crew fell for that! And by the Fates, where did you get that mannequin?”

“Aww, it works every time,” Strongbow assured her modestly. “An ounce of bargaining, a pinch of trickery, a  _ soupcon _ of intimidation,  _ et voila! _ The perfect recipe for a towering reputation without ever having to spill a drop of blood. Blood’s just gross, you know? I wouldn’t say I’m hemophobic, but--” he shuddered.

For his part, Eugene was delighted. Man, he could use that kind of reputation where he came from. Brock, even the  _ Baron  _ wouldn’t dare cross his path!

“But I still don’t understand how they won’t recognize me,” he admitted, folding his hands on the table. “I mean, this handsome face? Someone out there’s bound to have noticed.”

“Eugene, when I’m done with you, your own mother won’t recognize you. Now, we have no time to waste. We only have two hours before we make port. It’s time for me to grant some wishes and make some magic. First and foremost!”

He rose from the table and strode across the cabin to a sconce on the wall, which he twisted. Hidden gears began to turn and a well-lit closet full of luxurious clothes in all sorts of colors and fabrics opened up.

“Let’s get you out of those boring ol' things and into something _showstopping_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew all along that Lance was going to be Captain Shakespeare. I've been eagerly awaiting this part of the story. (Did you catch my Aladdin reference? ^_~)


	7. The Story of How I Became a Swashbuckler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook Foot taught us to dance. Not just those fun folk dances you sometimes see on government holidays or cultural festivals, but real couple dancing, slow and in each other’s arms. I’m not going to pretend that that wasn’t my favorite part of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one weekend? Who knew I had it in me! Enojy!

_ Believe you me, I was not expecting Captain Lance Strongbow to be the kind of fellow that he is. When Rapunzel and I were tied together, our lives flashing before our eyes, we didn’t expect the word ‘Vardaros’ to turn him around completely. Even as he was bellowing at me for having gone too far, he’d been untying us, and in hushed asides explaining his plan. _

_ So, one faked murder later, we found ourselves in his stateroom, standing in front of more clothes than either of us had seen in one place at one time in all our lives. _

Men’s clothes were on the left, women’s were on the right. And there was enough space in between the racks for the three of them to fit comfortably in the closet together. Lance strolled in, examining the clothing on the left, and selected something for Eugene. It was a plumb jacket with gold accents, a white shirt, and tan pants, complete with dark leather accessories.

“Here you go, my good man! Can’t be a dashing adventurer looking like a small-town bumpkin. This doesn’t really fit me, anyway.”

Eugene held the outfit out, his eyebrows lifting. It was high-quality stitching, and expensive fabrics. He’d never seen  _ Brock  _ wear anything as fine as this!

“And you, my dear…” Lance said, turning to Rapunzel. He gestured at the rack of gowns. “Pick out anything you like. Anything at all. I hate to see it all go to waste.”

“Oh no, I’m fine, really,” she assured him.

“Rapunzel, you’re wearing a bathrobe,” Lance pointed out. “And you really expect to be seen on Eugene’s arm when he’s dressed that nice wearing nothing but a bathrobe? Look, I can’t wear most of this stuff, and it’s just sitting in here being pretty. My closet is not meant to be a museum. Go ahead, try on multiple things if you can’t decide. But I expect to see you out of  _ that  _ and into  _ one of those _ sometime in the very near future!”

Unable to argue with the logic, she began to go through the vast amounts of fabric. Silks, satins, velvets, high-count linens, embroidery, lace, brocade, sequins… There was more there than she’d ever had a chance to lay her hands on before, and it was all so wonderful!

“So! Tell me all about Vardaros and the lands beyond. Equis, Corona, I remember them all so well.” He helped Eugene into the fresh pants and shirt, and began tailoring it to fit him, pinning where the fabric needed to be taken in.

“You’re really from there?” Eugene asked. “I think I’d have recognized you. We’re about the same age.”

“Not from Vardaros, specifically. But I passed through. You know, the wall isn’t the only way to get to Umbra from your side. Shirt off, I need to sew that for you.”

The pants fit fine, but the captain was right: Eugene swam in the untailored shirt. He stripped out of it so that it could be taken in, leaving nothing but the purple crystal he’d inherited from his mother against his chest, while Rapunzel continued to attempt to decide.

As Lance worked on the shirt, he kept talking. “I didn’t really want to do this for a living, you know? I wanted to be an actor. I still do. But this ship was bequeathed to me by Ruthless Ruth. She was a mean old biddy, but like me, she dreamed of performing. We understood each other. Her roping me into being a lightning catcher was a backhanded trick to pull on me, though. She was miserable, so she wanted me to be too, I guess,” he chuckled fondly. “But it’s not like it’s not a good life. I’ve made a name for myself, built up this reputation on my terms. It could be worse. At least I have a steady gig: acting like a bloodthirsty pirate!”

He sighed contentedly, a bit of emotion in his voice. “You have no idea how good it is to be able to get all this off my chest.”

Rapunzel stepped out from the closet now, having decided at last. The dress she chose was deceptively simple. The gold one she’d been wearing before she reached the inn had been a single color with no accents or even interesting cuts. The one she wore now was various shades of purple, and had a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves, revealing the freckles on her shoulders. It was fitted in the bodice, but flared charmingly in the paneled skirt, which fell to her calves. It seemed like every bit of it was embroidered with flowers or decorated with lace, but somehow, it wasn’t too busy, no matter where the eye traveled.

“Wow…” Eugene breathed when he saw her.

She smiled, ducking her head for a moment, fishing the Moonstone from her pocket and rolling it nervously between her hands. Lance looked back and forth between them with a knowing smile. “You look radiant,” he assured her. “But we’ve got to do something with that hair, or you’re going to be catching it on things all over my ship. I may be bald, but I know how to braid. You learn things like that, growing up in an orphanage.”

He knotted the thread he was working on and snipped the excess off, then tossed the shirt back to Eugene. “Get dressed, loverboy.”

It was Rapunzel’s turn to be fussed over, while Lance brushed and plaited her hair. But he wasn’t done there. As he placed colorful flowers in her long golden braid, he kept telling his story.

“I’m pretty sure there’s not a man on this ship who uses his real name. I was born Arnwaldo Schnitz, which is possibly the worst name in the history of the planet.”

Eugene snorted from before the three-way mirror he was getting dressed in front of. “Try ‘Horace’,” he suggested.

“... Brutal. But I chose Lance Strongbow myself! Sounds intimidating and like I’m a skilled warrior. And sure, of course I know how to fight, but it’s still a stage name and a persona. Most of the guys here have got dreams. Things they’d rather be doing, but don’t really pay the bills unless you’re lucky. Just wait until you taste Attila’s cupcakes. They’re sublime. Mwah!” He kissed his fingertips, releasing it into the air.

“I mean, I get it, though,” Eugene pointed out, joining the other two as he tugged on the second of a pair of gloves and straightened his collar. “Sometimes it’s easier to be the person everyone expects you to be instead of just… be yourself.”

“I don’t know,” Rapunzel countered softly, turning the Moonstone over and over so it caught the light. “I’d rather just be me. And I’d rather keep company with people who are themselves,  _ Eugene _ .”

“Alright, alright, point taken, Blondie,” he chuckled.

“Aaaaaand you’re done!” Lance declared of Rapunzel’s hair. “I think you’ll find that it’s a lot easier to move around now,  _ and  _ you’re less likely to be literally tied up in your own hair. And if you’ll hand me that pretty thing you keep fiddling with, I’ll put it in a setting and you can wear it.”

And just in time, too, because the man in the crow’s nest called that they were coming into port. All hands made ready the moors and dropped the sails as they came in to anchor. They also readied the lightning barrels, which they were going to sell. Captain Strongbow led the crew, with Rapunzel right behind him, towards the buyer’s. For his part, Eugene stayed on the ship for now, hidden, as part of the ruse to get him onboard without the crew recognizing him.

Their buyer was a little less than on the up-and-up, but they were pirates. They couldn’t exactly waltz into the market and hawk their wares. He was an attractive man with a full beard who kept his dark hair in a bun. He watched with calculating eyes as they set the barrel down. As proof of product, Lance uncapped the top for just a moment, letting a very small jolt of electricity out into the room.

“You trying to swindle me, Strongbow?” the buyer wondered. “That doesn’t look fresh at all. And I know fresh. I once nurtured a baby bird that fell from the nest to full health. He considers me his mother, and I consider him family.”

Rapunzel exhaled a soft coo at the story, taken by the idea of befriending baby animals. The buyer winked at her.

“Shall I give you a little taste, Andrew?” Captain Strongbow asked. He unslung a canister from across his back. Aiming it at some of the black market merchandise on the wall, he unleashed a much stronger bolt of lightning, knocking the now-sizzling thing down.

Andrew frowned. “Wonderful. Just wreck my merchandise, why don’t you?”

“We caught it last night. It’s still crackling,” he answered smugly. “Still alive. Still fresh. So, name your best price.”

“For ten thousand bolts?” Andrew clarified stonily.

“Ten Thousand bolts of finest quality, Grade A,” Captain Strongbow confirmed.

“Yeah, well, it’s difficult to sell off, difficult to store…” Andrew considered. “If the Revenue Men come in here sniffing around, I’ve got to deal with  _ that _ , so…” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Best price is one hundred and fifty gold crowns.”

“Gentlemen, put the merchandise back onboard and make ready to sail,” Captain Strongbow answered without hesitation. “Andrew, always a pleasure.” He held his hand out to the other man.

As Hook Foot moved in to grab the barrel, Andrew’s eyes widened. “Wait, wait. Hold it right there,” he backpedaled. “Back off, chuckles.”

“Yeeeeeees?” Strongbow’s smirk widened.

“One-sixty.”

“Seeing as how I’m feeling particularly generous today, I’ll settle for two hundred.”

“Two hundred?” Andrew snorted. “You’ve spent too long airborne. Were you standing on deck while you were in the middle of the storm? Is that gold chain around your neck a bit too tight?”

All humor was gone from the captain’s face as he drew himself to his full height and breadth and looked levelly at the buyer. “You’re being very rude.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “My apologies.”

“Two hundred.”

“One-eighty.”

“Two hundred.”

“That’s not negotiation! See, how I’m changing my number? One-eight-five!”

“Did I hear two hundred?”

“From  _ you _ , you did,” Andrew scowled.

“You said two hundred.”

“If I did, then you’re a ventriloquist.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Alright, you’ve got me over a lightning barrel. One-nine-five, final offer.”

“One-nine-five it is,” Captain Strongbow smiled again and held out his hand once more, which Andrew shook sullenly. “So, with sales tax that’s, let’s see… two hundred.”

“Fantastic,” Andrew snorted. “Put it in the back.”

As Hook Foot and Big Nose lifted the first barrel to move it, Andrew gestured for Captain Strongbow to follow him, which he did. Unaware that it was meant to be a private conversation, Rapunzel followed as well, interested to see more of this bartering and negotiation in action.

“Can I help you, beautiful?” Andrew asked her, though his tone was as sharp as it was sweet. Making an incredulous face, Rapunzel backed off but listened as best she could with crewmen hauling barrels all around her.

Lowering his voice and glancing around, Andrew asked, “Have you heard any of the rumors flying around about a fallen Sundrop? Everyone’s talking about it. You get your hands one one of those, we can close up shop and retire.”

Rapunzel heard, and suddenly felt extremely exposed. Everyone knew about her now? She was going to be hunted, wasn’t she? She wasn’t safe anywhere anymore!

“Sundrop?” Captain Strongbow asked, and looked over his shoulder. His eyes met Rapunzel’s, and he saw nothing but terror there. Turning back to Andrew, he shook his head. “No.”

“Nothing? Not even a whisper? Everyone’s talking about it down at the market.”

“Which market? The one near the wall?”

“Yeah.”

“Andrew, you’re wasting your time listening to gossip coming from the kind of pond scum trading down there.” As if on cue, Calliope strolled out from Andrew’s back room, and the captain’s face lit up. “Well, now! Speak of the devil!” he greeted.

Calliope’s eyes narrowed behind her spectacles. “Why? What were you saying about me?”

“Just what a charming and knowledgeable woman you are, Calliope. How the world wouldn’t be the same place without you!”

“You look lovely, Cal. Are those new glasses?” Andrew smiled.

She adjusted the frames on her nose and smoothed her hair back, simpering up at Andrew. “Why yes, they are. Thanks for noticing!”

“Well, you two have business to attend to, so I’ll be out of your hair. Andrew, Calliope, good day to you both.” He hurried away, and when he reached Rapunzel, gently steered her from the spot with a hand on the small of her back.

The walk back to the ship was tense for her. She was keenly aware that she was surrounded by pirates, any of whom would sell her at the drop of a hat. They’d already cheered at the idea of her being forcibly taken, she couldn’t begin to imagine how eager they’d be to retire off the gains they’d get from knowing she was a Sundrop.

She wasn’t even fully paying attention as she walked up the gangplank and back onto the deck, where the next step of their plot was about to come into play.

As the crew boarded, they found a young man, dressed well, and lounging confidently against a pile of crates and barrels that had been stacked on deck for the next sale. “Captain Strongbow,” he greeted with a smirk.

As one, the crew drew weapons on him; swords, maces, morning stars, axes, and even a sharpened spatula. And yet the young man did not flinch.

“Stand down!” Lance bellowed as he pushed to the front of the crew. He burst into a deep, joyous laugh. “Why, if it isn’t Eugene Fitzherbert!” Reaching out a hand, he helped Eugene to his feet and pulled him into a tight bearhug. “You old Striker you, I haven’t seen you since we parted ways at the orphanage! I hear you’ve made quite a name for yourself as a buccaneer in the past few years! Wasn’t sure you were going to make it when I got your message!” He turned to the crew and slapped Eugene on the back. “He’ll be joining us for our journey home. And I have the perfect gift to keep you amused on the way.”

He gestured at Rapunzel, and the largest crewmember, Vladimir, pushed her forward. She stumbled with a yelp into Eugene’s arms and looked up at him. The briefest smile flashed across her face, and she saw his eyes soften before they both remembered themselves. She acted out the part of the helpless damsel, and he acted like the scallywag who just got a girl as a gift (and liked it). Approving of the way Eugene pulled her in close to him, the crew cheered as one, and Eugene led Rapunzel away.

With a sigh, an eyeroll, and a shake of his head, Hook Foot watched them head off. They were the worst actors he’d ever seen.

_ The trip back toward Vardaros was some of the most pleasant times we’d spent so far on this trip. Lance treated us practically like nobility. We could go anywhere we liked in the ship. We dined in his cabin on only the best food (Attila was a surprisingly good cook! And his cupcakes  _ **_were_ ** _ sublime!) and drank from his private stash. In the meantime, we were both given quite an education in many different things, and from many different people. Lance taught me to swordfight properly but also with dramatic, swashbuckling flair, and I got so good at it that I surpassed him in skill! Never knew I actually had it in me! Hook Hand, the helmsman (and Hook Foot’s brother), taught Rapunzel how to play the piano. His dream, it turned out, was to be a concert pianist! _

_ There were artists and craftsmen alike among the crew, and while all I knew how to do was make shoes, Rapunzel, it turns out, had a lot of hobbies. She exchanged sewing tips with Killer and knitting patterns with Bruiser. Tor knew about all kinds of flowers, and how to arrange them aesthetically (he approved of the placement of the flowers in her hair). And it turned out that the painting of the  _ SS Bolt _ hanging in Lance’s cabin was painted by Gunter! Rapunzel, I learned, loved to paint, and she’s so passionate about it! It’s really enthralling watching her create art! So, if you ever wonder what Sundrops do in their spare time, the answer is: they have hobbies. _

_ And all along, every time we neared a storm, the metal wings would come out, and we both learned how to catch lightning! It was fun and exhilarating! So much better than standing on a cloud, at the mercy of the electricity in the air around you. Nothing up to that point had ever made me feel more powerful than harnessing lightning. I’m telling you, you feel like a god. And nothing felt better than doing it with Rapunzel by my side. _

_ Hook Foot taught us to dance. Not just those fun folk dances you sometimes see on government holidays or cultural festivals, but real couple dancing, slow and in each other’s arms. I’m not going to pretend that that wasn’t my favorite part of all. _

Rapunzel, who had begun this adventure only ever having danced by herself, hadn’t quite gotten the hang of waltzing yet. It was a nice night, not a cloud in the star-strewn sky, and Lance had the crew on deck, Big Nose turning a phonograph, while he and Rapunzel danced together, showing her again the steps and how to let someone else lead. She was shining, and not in the figurative sense. The trip had relaxed her so much and made her so happy that her natural sunshine glow haloed her.

As Lance dipped her low, he murmured, “Rapunzel, I know what you are.”

The glow immediately vanished, and as he pulled her out of the dip, she was tense and for a moment tried to get away, but he pulled her back in and continued the waltz. “No, no. Don’t be afraid,” he continued. “No one on this vessel will harm you. But there are plenty who would.” She offered him a fleeting smile, and though she was still a little tense, she was more relaxed than she had been a moment ago. “Your emotions give you away, Rapunzel. You’ve gotta learn to control them. You’ve been glowing more brightly every day, and I think you know why.”

“Of course I know why I’m glowing. I’m a  _ Sundrop! _ ” she murmured back with a slight laugh in her voice. “And what do Sundrops do best?”

“Well, it’s certainly not waltz,” he chuckled.

They were interrupted when Eugene tapped him on the shoulder, asking to cut in. “I’ll show you how,” he offered with a warm smile. Rapunzel eagerly fell into his arms, accepting the offer, and at once her shine returned, illuminating her like sun rays through the leaves of trees on a golden autumn day. She was suddenly all giggly and beaming smiles, and found it much easier to just relax and follow his lead as he waltzed her around the deck.

~*~*~

That same night, at a place they’d already been, Gothel strode around Andrew. She kept most of her face hidden behind the edge of her hood, but it didn’t seem to matter, since his attention was on the large platinum coin spinning before his eyes. It was worth considerably more than he’d recently paid for the ten thousand bolts of lightning.

“Due west, you said? And you’re certain he had a girl with him?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure? Absolutely sure? Sure you’re not lying?”

“I never forget a pretty face,” he purred. “And hers was one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen. She was a little nosy, though.”

Gothel snapped her fingers, and the platinum coin dropped into his eager hands.

“You’d better be telling the truth, you two-faced dog.”

“The truth and I are old bed partners,” he assured her, pocketing the coin. “She comes and goes as she pleases, but she’s always welcome here, as are you, my good lady.” He reached out to take her hand and kiss it, but she pulled it from his grasp before he could see how old it was becoming.

“What are the chances of me getting a Neserdnian candle from you?” she wondered.

“Slim, I’m afraid. They’re hard to come by. Though I did know a girl once, a shepherdess, with a flock of innocent lambs, each more pure than the last. I had a deep and meaningful connection with her and--”

Gothel pointed directly at his mouth with a commanded, “Enough,” and green energy flew from her finger and down his throat. She strode away, but smiled to herself when she heard him expressing random animal sounds as he tried to speak again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun making Andrew be Ferdy. X3


	8. The Story of How I Turned Into a Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She looked up at him, hovering above her. At the way his chestnut hair fell in his face, and the way the dappled sunlight brought out the gold flecks in his whiskey brown eyes. The slope of his nose. The nearness of his lips…
> 
> She wasn’t aware that her glow was brightening as she looked up at him.
> 
> “Aren’t you tempted…?” she wondered, her voice barely there.
> 
> Eugene hesitated a moment as he looked down at her. He knew she was the Sundrop, but that didn’t seem important at the moment. Her green eyes, so large and beseeching, the light dusting of freckles across her nose, her pretty pink lips… He leaned in closer. “Tempted?” he wondered, and leaned further, until their noses brushed. “By what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the romance burns slower.

_ Sky vessels are not the easiest thing to control in the best of times, but they’re even more difficult to control when you are in the middle of turning them into water vessels. You see, the  _ SS Bolty _ didn’t just soar through the clouds collecting lightning. It could also serve as the kind of ship you think about when someone says, “Oh look! A ship!” And while Lance is good at a lot of things, landing (watering?) his ship wasn’t one of them. That didn’t stop him from insisting on being the one to take us in. _

Eugene and Rapunzel stood securely at the bow, holding on and laughing while the wind pushed their hair back. Behind them, the crew hung on for dear life as Captain Strongbow hauled the wheel back and forth, attempting to right the ship so it wouldn’t capsize upon touchdown. It was a bumpy ride as they skipped like a stone across the surface of the lake, the twin keels sending out wakes tall enough to surf on. Eventually, though, they did manage a splashdown, which sent up enough water to absolutely soak a laughing Eugene and Rapunzel. From there, it was smooth sailing to the dock, at least in part because Hook Hand insisted on taking the helm back from the captain.

With two feet on dry land, Lance offered Eugene a canister of lightning. He gestured at the road before them.

“So there’s the road you need for Vardaros.” He turned to the young woman who had been travelling with them, as well. “Good luck on your journey home, Rapunzel, wherever that may be.” And he turned once more to Eugene, “And good luck with your Stalyan.”

Eugene offered him a huge hug and a bigger smile. “How can we ever thank you enough for your kindness, buddy?”

“Don’t mention it,” Lance smiled. Then shot out his hand to stop Eugene as he began to turn away. “No, seriously, don’t mention it,” he said, his voice lowered conspiratorially. “As a favor to me? A fake reputation is all a man has.”

Eugene’s grin broadened at that. He understood the sentiment. He began to climb off the gangplank when Lance stopped him one more time. He whispered something to Eugene that Rapunzel couldn’t hear, but instantly became burningly curious about. “Just think about it,” Lance smiled with a flick of his eyebrows.

As the two started away, Lance called after them, “Give my regards to Vardaros! It’s been a pleasure to meet you both!”

The crew looked at him questioningly for the soft and polite demeanor, and Hook Foot cleared his throat delicately.

“Right, uh… mind you don’t wear that wench out, Captain Fitzherbert!” he joked, and the crew cheered and laughed once more. Hook Foot shook his head with a roll of his eyes. Idiots, the lot of them.

As they strode away from the ship, the voices of the crew so far behind them that even their raucous laughter didn’t drift to them on the breeze anymore, Rapunzel hesitantly asked, “What did he say to you?”

It had been on her mind the entire walk, even though they’d gone quite a distance at this point.

“Hmm?” Eugene wondered. His mind had been on his footing as they climbed the hill that sheltered the lake where the  _ SS Bolty _ was moored. “What did he say when?”

“As we were leaving, when he whispered to you.”

Eugene went quiet and unreadable for a moment, then held up the canister. “Oh, uh… he was just saying we should use the lightning to get you a Neserdnian candle. So you can get home. Barter for it, like you saw him do at Andrew’s.”

Rapunzel looked over her shoulder at Eugene with an expression he didn’t quite comprehend. She looked… upset at the idea, and for the life of him, he couldn’t guess why. But she had never had trouble telling him when she had a problem with something before, so he could only assume that nothing was actually wrong now.

~*~*~

“For the last time, where is the girl?!”

Hector’s patience was less than thin. When he’d started out on this quest, he thought it would be over quickly, that he’d best Adira as easily as he’d bested Quirin and that the Moonstone would already be in his hand, and he’d be sitting comfortably on the Throne of Umbra, or at least on his way there. Instead, he was hunting down the Sundrop who had the Moonstone. And while life eternal as king was definitely something he wanted, getting there was proving to be bothersome.

The black market merchant he was dealing with now was a genuine pain in the ass, literally making animal noises in his face. Sometimes braying like a donkey, in fact, though he seemed to prefer unpleasant avian noises for the most part.

“The girl with the stone! Where did she go?!”

Andrew chattered like a monkey, trying very hard to speak but finding himself unable.

“Are you mocking me?” Hector demanded, and Andrew shook his head no. “Because if you are, believe me, you have seconds to live!”

Andrew tried! He tried to speak to the man, to give him any and all information he wanted! But the curse the witch had put on him prevented it, and, as Hector had promised, he was run through moments later. Irate, the would-be king strode from the shop, wiping his retractable blade clean as he did.

~*~*~

In her stolen caravan Gothel was becoming increasingly frustrated at how quickly she was aging. It seemed like every little thing she did only made it worse, including using magic to make herself look young again! She needed that Sundrop!

Just as she was mentally lamenting how droopy her figure had become, she heard Tromus’ voice from her communication ring.

“Ahem! If you have quite finished squandering your magic on your rather counterproductive beauty routine, you might like to know that the Sundrop has returned.”

“She’s back on land,” Sugracha added.

“I know, damn it,” Gothel huffed. “I couldn’t reach the lake in time.”

“No matter, we’ve found her for you, dearie,” Sugracha smiled. “She’s on the road to the village of Vardaros. If you take the shortcut across the marshes, you should arrive in time to intercept her.”

~*~*~

On that self same road, Rapunzel and Eugene were walking. The going was much easier now than it had been at the beginning, now that Rapunzel was no longer injured and he was no longer leading her unwilling by the hair. But a wagon was coming up opposite them, and Eugene started.

“Rapunzel,” he said warningly, then abruptly pushed her into the brush and dove in after her.

Rapunzel hit the ground on her back, and Eugene landed on top of her, supporting his weight on his hands so as not to crush her. The necklace he always wore under his shirt slipped out from its confines, the low cut of his shirt no longer capable of keeping it hidden all the time.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Are you trying to sprain my knee again?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t risk people seeing you. I don’t trust anyone.” She’d been glowing more and more as they travelled, and with news of the Sundrop spreading, Eugene was on high alert for her safety.

“But at this rate, if we keep stopping--”

“Ssh…” he cautioned, and gently touched his finger to her lips to quiet her. “We’re making good time. Just… let it be for a minute, okay?”

She looked up at him, hovering above her. At the way his chestnut hair fell in his face, and the way the dappled sunlight brought out the gold flecks in his whiskey brown eyes. The slope of his nose. The nearness of his lips…

She wasn’t aware that her glow was brightening as she looked up at him.

“Aren’t you tempted…?” she wondered, her voice barely there.

Eugene hesitated a moment as he looked down at her. He knew she was the Sundrop, but that didn’t seem important at the moment. Her green eyes, so large and beseeching, the light dusting of freckles across her nose, her pretty pink lips… He leaned in closer. “Tempted?” he wondered, and leaned further, until their noses brushed. “By what?”

But Rapunzel turned her head, just a little. Just enough. “Immortality.”

_ Oh _ . He backed off, just a little. Just enough.

“Let’s say it wasn’t  _ my  _ heart,” she whispered the hypothetical. “Not me. Just a Sundrop you didn’t know.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “You seriously think I could kill anyone?”

Her glow flared with her accompanying laugh, and he had to shush her again, grinning. He was so tempted to kiss her to silence the sound, even though it had fast become his favorite sound in the world…

“I mean, even if I could...” he whispered. ”Everlasting life? I imagine it would be kind of lonely.” He put some serious thought into it, though, taking her question to heart. And to his surprise -- well, maybe not  _ that  _ surprised -- he thought about Rapunzel and not Stalyan. “Well, maybe if you had someone to share it with. Someone you love. Maybe then… I don’t know, maybe it would be different.”

Someone he loved. He was talking about Stalyan, she knew. That was where they were headed, after all. The reminder was enough to dim her glow back to normal levels, barely visible in full sunlight.

Eugene looked over his shoulder, recalling and checking on the status of the wagon that had ended them up here. “Come on. I think we’re safe.”

He got to his feet and helped her to hers, brushing leaf litter off her skirt and out of her hair and they continued their journey.

~*~*~

Hector and his men paused on the hill overlooking where the  _ SS Bolty _ was moored. “Now remember,” he cautioned. “Captain Strongbow has a fearsome reputation.” They rode.

That captain with a fearsome reputation had been thinking a lot about the two he’d had aboard his ship for a number of days, and the lessons they’d taught him in their brief time here. Be true to yourself. Let yourself shine. Even if he didn’t yet have the courage to show his true self to his crew, at least he could do it in the privacy of his own chamber. With Hook Hand standing guard outside on the deck.

He put a disc on the phonograph, a recording of a musical play, and as the overture began, he went to his closet full of men’s and women’s clothes and dressed the part of the soprano whose song he was waiting for.

On deck, Hector’s men had faced off with the crew, holding them in silent wait while the strains of the song could be heard clearly coming from the Captain’s Quarters. Hector made his way down, walking silently, blade drawn.

The moment the door was closed behind him, Hook Foot bowed graciously to Hector’s men. The men, used to the chivalrous way of doing things, bowed back. And that was when the crew attacked.

Now, Lance Strongbow was no soprano, but that didn’t stop him from belting out the song in his rich baritone, singing for all he was worth, and prancing about his cabin in a velvet dress tailored to him and fur stole. What better way to get into character than to dress the part? Kicks and twirls, swishes of the skirt, dramatically leaning against the wall as he sang the character’s lovelorn heart out.

He was so caught up in his choreographed routine that he didn’t notice that he had a visitor until Hector had been watching him for several stunned moments. When he finally noticed him, Lance yelped a much higher-pitched scream than one would think a man his size was capable of.

“What the hell is this?!” Hector wondered, his eyes wide with shock.

“What are you doing in here?!” Lance demanded, and strode forward in a manner belying his current attire. He was humiliated, but acted like he didn’t care.

Hector genuinely did not. “I am Hector, last of the Brotherhood of King Edmund, and your future king.” He held his blade to Lance’s throat. “And you’re going to tell me where I can find the girl.”

The crew fought for all they were worth, and Hector’s men were no match for them. Not many are a match for a ragtag band of ruffians with dreams. Despite those dreams, they fought like savages, until Hector’s men were completely dispatched.

Lance had been caught off guard, unawares, and weaponless. That didn’t mean he was going to give up his new friends, though. He fought as best as he could, but as strong as he was, even weaponless, it didn’t take long for Hector to have him pinned to his own table, nose bleeding and cringing at the inevitable. “Alright, twinkletoes. I’m giving you to the count of three. One…! Two…!”

“Hands off our captain!” Hook Foot shouted from the doorway. Hector looked up to see every last one of the crew looming. He had only moments to decide his plan of action: try to take them all down and get the information he sought or make a break for it. The crew charged as one, and knowing he was beaten, Hector made a hasty escape through the window, diving into the lake and swimming to safety, the final strains of Lance’s favorite song playing over the phonograph.

~*~*~

“You know, you sort of gleam sometimes,” Eugene pointed out as they trod on down the road. “And not in the sweaty way, in the glowy way. I just noticed it. Is it normal?”

Was it normal? He’d only  _ just  _ noticed?  _ Was it normal?! _

“Gosh, I don’t know, Eugene. What does sunlight  _ do? _ ”

He scoffed at her. “Attract trouble?” he teased.

She laughed and shoved him just enough off the road that he had to stumble to find his footing. Laughing along with her, he jogged to catch back up.

“Okay, okay. Let me take another guess. Do they… know exactly how to annoy a man named Eugene Fitzherbert?”

Her second peal of laughter died on her lips as they approached a road sign telling them how far it was to Vardaros. Rapunzel paused as she read the sign, her brow furrowing. 60 miles.

“How long will that take?” she wondered.

“About two days, give or take.”

“But we don’t have two days,” she pointed out. “Stalyan’s birthday is tomorrow.”

He looked at her a moment, face impassive. “Yes it is.” And then he smiled. “I’m kind of surprised you remembered.”

“I might have a talent for knowing exactly how to annoy a man named Eugene Fitzherbert, but I’m  _ smart _ ,” she pointed out with a little smile she wasn’t really feeling. “I’ve got a good memory.” Her smile vanished and she pressed onward, Eugene right in her wake.

~*~*~

“Here’s your tea,” Hook Foot said, setting the china cup in front of Lance.

The captain was… well, he was humiliated. His reputation was shot, and now his crew knew exactly what he was…  _ a theater kid _ . Still dressed like the soprano from the musical play, he sat behind his desk, flustered beyond measure.

“Just… get out. All of you. Get out.”

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you, Captain?” Hook Foot wondered.

Lance just looked at him, unable to muster the scathe he wished he could.

“Did you tell him where your old orphanage buddy and the girl went?”

He wordlessly shook his head in reply.

“Then what’s the big deal?”

Lance heaved a sigh. “It’s my reputation,” he admitted.

“Well, that’s a load of bull. It’s alright, Captain,” Hook Foot assured him.

“We always knew you had a dream,” Big Nose added.

There was a murmur of, “Yeah!” all around.

“You’ll always be our Captain, Captain,” Hook Foot went on. “And who knows! Maybe some of the boys would be willing to learn a song or two!”

Straightening, Lance grinned at them and adjusted the strap that had slipped off his shoulder. He brandished his fist in a macho gesture and half-hearted growled, “Arr!” at them in salute. The response was much more resounding, and he immediately felt much better.

“Alright then, get out, get out. I’ve got a mess to clean up, and I gotta change out of this.”

On the shores of the lake, Hector emerged from the frigid depths to where Dwayne was waiting for him on the back of the rhino he rode. He’d witnessed the entire battle on the deck from here, watching Hector’s men get slaughtered, one by one. It was only with a little surprise that he saw the last remaining member of the Brotherhood rise from the water.

“Hector, your men are dead…” he nervously delivered the news.

“Oh, really? You don’t say.”

Hector grabbed him by the shirt front and effortlessly threw him from the rhino’s back, then mounted and rode away, leaving Dwayne to fend for himself. And although he was far from home by now, this was all Dwayne really wanted at this point.

~*~*~

Calliope trundled down the road, her yellow wagon moving slowly. She was in no hurry. What was there to hurry about? The Sundrop? As if she’d be lucky enough to find the Sundrop before a more powerful witch did. Little did she know - nor would she ever - that the Sundrop was extremely nearby.

“I know that woman,” Rapunzel told Eugene. “She trades with Lance! I saw her at Andrew’s! We could catch a lift from her, and then you’d make it home in time!”

“Really?” Eugene brightened. “She’s a friend of Lance’s? You’re sure?”

“Yes! Yes! Let’s hurry before she passes by!”

They ran out from under the bridge where they’d been hiding and back up to the road to intercept the yellow wagon.

“Wait!” Eugene called, jumping out in front of the horse pulling it.

_ No, not Maximus, sorry. I told you we wouldn’t see him again _ .

“Hi, sorry! My name is Eugene Fitzherbert and this--” he began to indicate Rapunzel, but the woman driving the wagon cut him off.

“That’s my necklace!” she exclaimed, pointing at the purple crystal that rested against his chest. “I’ve been looking for that for over twenty years! You give that to me right now!” Angrily, she began to climb down from the cart.

“How dare you!” Rapunzel exclaimed. “That was a gift from his mother!”

Eugene pulled his sword on Calliope, and she came up short.

“Oh! Uh… perhaps I was mis… uh, missssstaken  _ thatwashorribletosay _ .”

“That’s alright,” Eugene allowed warily, not lowering his blade. “It’s obviously very valuable to you, so you can have it in exchange for what  _ I _ need. A Neserdnian candle?”

“And safe passage to Vardaros,” Rapunzel reminded him, surprised that he’d think of her way home before thinking about Staylan getting her gift on time and winning her hand. But Calliope completely ignored her.

“A Neserdnian candle?” she asked innocently. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t deal in  _ black  _ magic.”

“Really?” That seemed highly unlikely, but what was a man to do. “How about a lift, then? To the wall?”

“Of course! Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Calliope simpered, and entirely missed Rapunzel’s incredulous look. “Hmm. For that necklace, I can offer you passage, and food and lodging on the way. How does that sound?”

“ _ Safe _ passage?” Eugene pressed.

“I swear,” she said, holding up her hand and drawing an ex over her heart, “that you will arrive at the wall in the exact same condition that you’re in now.”

Satisfied, Eugene sheathed his sword. He took the purple crystal from around his neck and placed it into Calliope’s open hand. She smiled in satisfaction as her fingers closed around the talisman.

“Do you have any idea what this little trinket was doing for you?” Her smile was no longer simpering, but smug.

“I just assumed it was a lucky charm,” he confessed. After all, he’d been incredibly lucky on this adventure.

“A very lucky charm indeed,” she confirmed. “Protection. In fact, the exact same thing that would have prevented me from doing this.”

The short woman jumped up and jabbed her stubby finger against Eugene’s chest, and he immediately began to shrink as black smoke issued from everywhere and nowhere, swirling around him. His perspective changed immediately and immensely, and he watched in horror as Rapunzel and Calliope seemed to grow before his eyes.

Rapunzel’s horror mirrored his own. From her perspective, he very abruptly began sprouting blue feathers and his nose and mouth warped grotesquely as he shrunk. By the time the smoke cleared, Eugene was a blue jay (with an awkwardly human head of hair), flopping around on the ground as he tried to get his bearings.

“Fates! What did you do?!” Rapunzel demanded, but as before, Calliope completely ignored her.

“Much better,” she said, and swooped down, deftly catching Eugene before he could figure out how to fly. 

Rapunzel flew into a rage, and attempted to strike Calliope, but no matter how she swung or kicked, it was as if an invisible shield was protecting the woman.

_ And now’s the part where I get to remind you that in Chapter 4, Calliope had a run-in with Gothel, which resulted in Gothel casting a wicked spell on her that barred Calliope from detecting the Sundrop with any of her senses, even if she was standing right in front of her. Yeah, that includes being jostled by an angry Sundrop, so the spell meant to keep her from perceiving Rapunzel in any way was now protecting her from getting her ass kicked. More’s the pity. _

“Sorry about the hair,” Calliope said as she gently pet Eugene’s head with a finger. “I never could get that quite right on birds. You might think this is really inconvenient, but the wagon is actually much roomier when you’re this size. Oh, and though I’m headed to the market, I don’t think I’ll be dropping you off directly at the wall. But I’ll keep my word and not harm you.”

She carried the jay to the back of the wagon and deposited him in an empty birdcage. As she sprinkled a few seeds in, she smirked. “There. Food and lodging, just like I promised. You’re cheaper to feed as a bird, too.”

Rapunzel strode over stubbornly. “Let me guess; You can’t see or hear me.” When she got no answer from the humunculian witch, she brightened wickedly. “In that case, I want to tell you that you have the most annoying voice I’ve  _ ever  _ heard! You’re really short, and your glasses make you look like a giant bug! I don’t care if that was mean! And if I don’t get my Eugene back the way he was, I’m going to be your personal poltergeist!”

Calliope got back underway, and Rapunzel stayed in the wagon with Eugene. Fretting, she paced back and forth, trying to figure out what to do, what  _ could  _ be done. She considered just freeing Eugene, but she couldn’t be sure he was a tame bird, or that he even had Eugene’s mind at all. And if he went flying around the rocking wagon, he was liable to get hurt! Finally, she stopped in front of the cage.

“Eugene, if you can understand me, look at me now!” she prompted. It was a relief to know she didn’t have to be quiet or subtle. There were advantages to being completely undetectable to Eugene’s captor.

He looked, alright, but not at Rapunzel. His eyes focused on a loaf of bread on the shelf. The crust was absolutely covered in nuts and seeds. Sighing, Rapunzel broke him off a piece and sat down, pushing it through the bars. She watched him pecking at and shaking the bit of bread, working the seeds off first before going for the crumbs, and she smiled sadly. He was cute, even as a blue jay with bizarre human hair.

All through this trip, she’d been growing fonder of him. More than fond. But it was difficult to understand her feelings, let alone express them. Still, here now seemed as safe a time and place as any to speak her heart.

“Do you remember when I said I knew little about love? Well, that wasn’t true. I know a  _ lot  _ about love. I’ve  _ seen  _ it. I’ve seen centuries and centuries of it. And it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars. Pain and lies and  _ hate _ . So much greed and deception. I was once told that the world is dark and selfish and cruel, and that if it finds even the slightest ray of sunshine, it destroys it. And to a Sundrop, that’s absolutely horrifying. When I fell down here, I was…  _ terrified  _ that I was going to be swallowed whole the instant anyone found me.

“But the  _ love…  _ To see the way that mankind  _ loves! _ You could search the farthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful! So, yes, I know that real love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable, and, well… strangely easy to mistake for loathing.” She exhaled a single note laugh and shook her head, gathering her thoughts. “What I’m trying to say, Eugene, is that… I think I love you! It feels like my chest can barely contain my heart! As if it doesn’t belong to me anymore, it belongs to  _ you _ . It’s so… so…  _ warm  _ and  _ real  _ and  _ bright…  _ And if you wanted it, Eugene… I wouldn’t want anything in exchange. No... proof of devotion or grand gestures or expensive gifts. Nothing but knowing that you love me, too. Just your heart in exchange for mine.”

Maybe it was because she’d finally gotten all that off her chest, or maybe he liked the lilt of her voice - birds liked music, after all - but it seemed like Eugene had stilled and had been watching her, listening to her,  _ understanding  _ her. But perhaps that was too much to ask at this juncture.

The wagon rolled on into the night. Calliope didn’t stop until she reached the market, pulling into a little lot where she usually set up shop, next to a tavern and inn called The Snuggly Duckling. It had been a long journey, though, and tonight was not the night for selling. She’d rest up and get to work tomorrow.

Moving around to the back of the wagon, she opened the cage and to Rapunzel’s astonishment, took Eugene out. “The wall is one mile that way,” she pointed towards the woods. “Though the walk might take you a little longer than normal. Being transformed tends to leave you a little birdbrained for a while. Watch out for a craving for worms.”

She touched him, and the black smoke once again poured out around him, the pillar growing as he did too, regaining his natural form.

“You--” he began, and went to draw his sword, but immediately toppled over. Rapunzel yelped and went to help him up.

Calliope hadn’t even flinched. “I warned you,” she chuckled. “Save your strength.” She pulled the necklace out from under her shift and dangled the crystal where the downed Eugene could see it. “Oh, and thanks again for my necklace back!” And she headed back into her wagon to sleep for the night.

Unseen by any of them, a woman had witnessed the whole thing with wide, unbelieving eyes. Nearly a year ago, Gwen’s husband had sent her into hiding for her own protection, and for now she lived near the wall, an aching reminder of the son they’d had to send to Vardaros for  _ his  _ protection. For months, she’d been sorely tempted to take a peek and see how he was doing, but she’d always held herself in check. Now, though, she had every reason to believe she was looking at her son, her Horace, a grown man. It took everything in her power not to run to him now, but something told her she needed to bide her time.

On the ground, Rapunzel cradled Eugene’s face in her hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

He grinned loopily up at her and joyously proclaimed, “Stalyan!”

Rapunzel frowned and she sighed. So much for the hope that he’d understood her at all as a bird. “I think I preferred ‘Mother’.” Looking around in her disappointment, she made the decision that they weren’t going anywhere tonight. “Come on,” she said, helping him up. “There’s an inn right there. Stalyan’s birthday isn’t until tomorrow. I think you need a bath and a good night’s sleep before you present me to her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to the climax, folks! Almost there! Thanks for bearing with me for this long!


	9. The Story of How I Found My New Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you really mean what you said back in the wagon?” he wondered gently.
> 
> For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and Rapunzel had the strangest feeling of her ears trying to flex, as though they could hear what he’d just said better. She turned and looked at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What I… but…” She looked at him, and she’d possibly never seen him look so earnest. “But you were a bird!” she protested, and began to flush red. “You were a bird! You wanted seed!”
> 
> Mortified, she covered her face with both her hands. Every muscle felt tight, like she was winding up to flee, but she found herself rooted to the spot. “I asked you to give me a sign!”
> 
> “And risk you being too embarrassed to keep saying such... wonderful things?” he asked, striding across the room. He took her in his arms, holding her, protecting her from her own feelings. But also, he held her because for once, he felt like he could. She’d done her confessing. It was his turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, everyone! I've been sitting on this chapter being partially written for weeks, but I had an extra day off today and the time felt right to get it out there.

_I’m going to be up front with all of you: Don’t get transformed if you can avoid it. Oh sure, becoming something that can fly or has sharp teeth and claws or any of a number of other things sounds all well and good, but the after effects? Not worth it. Think a hangover but about a billion times worse. And if you’ve never had a hangover, just pretend you inhaled water but it all hung out in your sinuses, then you swabbed it out with cotton, but left the cotton balls in your head. Then, for shits and giggles, you put your head in a vice and hung upside down for twenty-three hours._

_I slept so hard for… I’m not even sure how long. But it had been early evening when we arrived and it was late evening when I woke up for the first time that night._

Eugene wasn’t sure what exactly it was that had roused him. Maybe it was the occasional soft sound of moving water. Maybe it was the candlelight dancing on the other side of closed eyelids. Maybe it was the slightly musty smell of the bedding that his face was mushed against. Maybe it was simply that he’d had enough sleep to recover for now. At any rate, the waking world did eventually find him, but at least it was slowly and peacefully.

And maybe it wasn’t the lapping of water that woke him, but other than the vaguely cottony feeling in his head and his mouth tasting like birdseed, it was the first thing he became aware of. Rising from the bed and rubbing his eyes, he noticed a screen partitioning the bed off from the rest of the room. There was a very small door at eye level, so he opened it to peer around on the other side.

Apparently, the screen had been erected to lend some privacy to a very full bath. Rapunzel sat in it now, her braid draped over the side to keep dry. Either he hadn’t made any noise getting up or she was so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed. She was gazing vaguely out the window, bathed not only in water, but moonlight. Occasionally, her hand would drift up and down her opposite arm, and that, Eugene realized, was the source of the soft water sound.

She was a sight to behold, her skin glowing gently, her expression contemplative, absolutely radiant in her simplicity, and he felt like he could just stand there and take her in for hours. But he was also aware of how pervy and rude that would come across, so he cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but I believe that bath was drawn for me,” he teased.

She gasped softly, turning away from him with an indignant laugh. “Close your eyes!” she demanded.

He laughed himself and shut the little door, turning away from the screen. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I swear, I’m not looking.” And he hadn’t really. Well, he’d looked, but he hadn’t _looked,_ looked. What he’d been admiring had had nothing to do with her submerged body. It was just… her. Everything that was Rapunzel. Maybe he was feeling a little giddy from the transformation, still, but he found himself giggling at his little prank.

Rapunzel rose from the water and wrapped a towel around herself, then hung her heavy braid, the flowers completely removed, over her shoulder for extra protection against prying eyes. “Alright, you can look now,” she sighed as she moved behind the screen.

If things had been different, if she’d been reading the cues right, if she hadn’t poured her heart out and if he hadn’t called her Stalyan upon regaining human form, maybe she’d feel differently about him seeing her naked. But as it was, it was the farthest want in her mind.

Eugene turned back with an impish smile, and she couldn’t help returning it. Even if he didn’t love her back, she still loved him. She turned away again, making sure the tassel at the end of her braid was well brushed. Just because she wasn’t undoing the entire elaborate plait didn’t mean she had to let the loose part get scraggly.

Because she was turned away from him again, she missed the way he was looking at her. Not just like she was the sun itself, but like she also hung the moon and stars in the sky. Like there was no one else in the world but her.

“Did you really mean what you said back in the wagon?” he wondered gently.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and Rapunzel had the strangest feeling of her ears trying to flex, as though they could hear what he’d just said better. She turned and looked at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What I… but…” She looked at him, and she’d possibly never seen him look so earnest. “But you were a bird!” she protested, and began to flush red. “You were a bird! You wanted seed!”

Mortified, she covered her face with both her hands. Every muscle felt tight, like she was winding up to flee, but she found herself rooted to the spot. “I asked you to give me a sign!”

“And risk you being too embarrassed to keep saying such... wonderful things?” he asked, striding across the room. He took her in his arms, holding her, protecting her from her own feelings. But also, he held her because for once, he felt like he _could_. She’d done her confessing. It was his turn.

He laughed softly at the pink hue of her cheeks, evident even behind her hand. He kissed her forehead and rubbed her bare arm, trying to soothe away her fluster. “Want to know what Lance really whispered to me right before we left?” he asked. She nodded, all nerves and shining eyes, and he gently lowered her hand from her mouth so he could see her whole face when he gave her the news. His fingers followed the golden swoop of her bangs as he tucked some stray hairs behind her ear, then let his fingertips continue to graze her cheek. “He told me that my true love was right in front of my eyes,” he murmured.

At the words ‘true love,’ Rapunzel began to glow, more brilliantly than he’d ever seen her. It was golden and warm, and he’d swear she was the sun, all on her own. Not just a small drop of it. Her eyes shone with all the hope and fear she’d been feeling, and Eugene couldn’t help but smile.

“And he was right.”

He leaned in to kiss her, then, but she beat him to it. Her fingers gripped his shirt front and pulled him into her so fast that their teeth banged together. But it didn’t matter. The kiss was so tender and intense and was followed by another and another and another.

The two fell together onto the bed. Despite the faintly musty smell, it was by far the best bed either had ever laid in. They celebrated their newfound love for each other, Eugene’s bath long forgotten (though he did get halfway there, what with the shedding of clothes).

_And now I’m going to direct your attention elsewhere, because while this is definitely one of the most magical moments of my life, it’s not for your eyes. I’m going to respect Rapunzel’s privacy, and my own, and force you to look away._

Sitting outside the Snuggly Duckling, the specters of Eugene’s siblings and Brotherhood members congregated, caught in the limbo of the story. They couldn’t move on until they saw how the story played out, though they were all fairly certain they already knew.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Adira mused. “Hector will be here by morning, and he’s going to get his hands on the Moonstone _and_ the Sundrop and be king forever.”

“So unjust,” Qurin sighed. “But at least once he does, we’ll be free, and we won’t have to watch what he does to this poor, unsuspecting land.”

~*~*~

Gothel was getting anxious, and the more anxious she got, the faster she aged. She supposed, on some deeper level, that normal humans had the same problem. But she was a witch! She was youthened by magic! She should not be looking like an ill, middle-aged woman already, with her skin sagging and her hair falling out!

She examined herself in the mirror, almost without hearing the instructions Tromus had for her.

“You’re very close,” he said. “She’s in the market town, one mile from the gap in the wall to Vardaros.”

Gothel’s steely grey eyes met his across space through the ring she wore. “You say that like it’s good news,” she snapped. “Need I remind you that Vardaros is not a part of our universe? If she crosses the threshold into the human world, our Sundrop becomes nothing more than a golden crystal, with no magic in her whatsoever.

“Then I suggest you _hurry up_ ,” he sneered, curling his lip disdainfully.

Gothel glared daggers at him, but unfortunately he was right. She didn’t have a moment to wait.

~*~*~

The following morning found Eugene watching Rapunzel sleep, her entire form haloed in beautiful golden light. She was the most stunning woman he’d ever met, and he meant that emotionally even more than physically. Yes, she was beautiful, a literal drop of sunlight, but she was also kind, brave, fierce, brilliant, generous, patient, loving… he could go on for hours. He didn’t consider himself a poet by any means, but he definitely felt like he could wax poetic about her. He gently kissed her freckled shoulder, and the place where the chain of the necklace Lance had made for her out of that sparkly stone she’d been carrying fell on her neck.

He was more certain than ever, after the events of last night, that she was his true love. But he was this close to home, and he was sure he wanted to spend his life with her. That meant cutting ties with Vardaros. And it was only honorable to do so in person. Normally, he wouldn’t bother to get up at such a ridiculously early hour, but this was important.

Reaching to the bedside table, he fetched his knife. Finding the end of her incredibly long hair, he lifted a lock of it, folding it over the edge of the blade. However, when he moved to cut it, it was the knife that broke, and not the gently glowing strands. Perplexed, Eugene just stared stupidly at the handle of his knife. He wasn’t sure how that’d happened, but he definitely didn’t want to rouse Rapunzel by trying again. Quietly, he cleaned up the mess, determined to ask her about that when he returned, and went to look for something else he could use as proof.

In the cordoned off area where the tub had been, he found all the flowers that had been placed in her hair on Lance’s ship. Among them was a small bloom, very much alive and shining with the same kind of golden light that radiated off Rapunzel. Satisfied that a clearly magical flower would suit as proof, he took it and, once he was dressed, wrapped it in a handkerchief and tucked it carefully into his inner pocket, protecting it from falling out on his way. He attached his sword, and his thigh sheath (even though the knife that belonged there was now just a pile of shattered steel), as well as the lightning canister, and headed downstairs.

No one was at the service counter, so Eugene rang the little bell set there. He was answered by a groan from the lounge behind him. Turning, he found a man frowning and squinting at him, barely awake.

“Excuse me, my good man, but might I trouble you for a piece of paper and a quill?”

“Ask me again at a more reasonable hour,” the man grumbled and dropped his head back onto the lounge’s armrest.

“Sorry but I’m heading out, and I need to leave a message for my traveling companion, if she comes downstairs while I’m gone.”

The innkeeper heaved a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Go on, but be quick about it.”

Eugene was quick to speak his message, then headed out into the market’s early morning air. He’d never been one for the fresh air that came in the morning, but today was a much brighter day than any he could remember before it. Feeling chipper, he walked the mile to the wall, ready to be done with this whole Stalyan fiasco.

The morning mist clung to the wildflowers that dotted the meadow, and Eugene paused, just on Umbra’s side of the wall, to peer through at Vardaros. This was the last time he planned to look at it. He took a deep breath and smiled as he let it out again, then crossed through the gap.

~*~*~

Unlike Eugene, Rapunzel was an early riser. People who live on the sun generally are. But she woke slowly this morning, which was rare. Usually, Time to Be Awake blared in her, and her eyes shot open and she sprung from bed and got about her day. But this morning, wakefulness came like the scent of fresh-baked bread, pleasant and warm and tantalizing, wanting you to be where it was, but telling you not to hurry. And for once in her life, Rapunzel didn’t feel anxious upon waking, like she was wasting the day. She gradually became aware of the morning light filling the room, the support of the mattress beneath her and the warmth of the blankets over her.

“You know, I think this is the first time I’ve felt relaxed upon waking,” she mused as she opened her eyes. She rolled over with a joyful, “I can’t believe it!” and looked at Eugene. Or, rather, looked where she thought Eugene would be. As soon as she’d ascertained that he wasn’t there, her brilliant smile dimmed, and her literal glow dimmed with it. Confused, she called out, “Eugene?” but got no answer.

That, of course, was because Eugene was walking the streets of Vardaros for the last time. He made sure to stop by Feldspar’s to turn in his official notice. (Not that Feldspar was up, yet, but he left him a note tacked to his workstation.) And now, he was strolling to the Barone house. It was funny how little he cared anymore. It wasn’t that he wished Stalyan or even Brock specific ill will, but Vardaros was so… small, now. And, he realized, Stalyan’s ‘love’ was even smaller. Nonexistent, in fact. He recognized now that she didn’t love him, and he could hear Rapunzel’s voice in his head, all the times she’d subtly warned him against what he was getting himself into if he married her.

Rapunzel dressed and came downstairs. The innkeeper was awake now, pouring himself a very black cup of coffee.

“Excuse me, have you seen my friend?” she asked him.

“Yeah, he was here. He left, absurdly early. He said he’s gone to see Stalyan, because he’s sorry, but he knows what his dream is, and he wants to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loves.”

That message… it was… confusing. And maybe it shouldn’t have surprised Rapunzel, but it did. Surprised and hurt her. Her glow vanished entirely as thoughts and emotions swirled through her. Last night he--! Had he only been _using_ her? No, it couldn’t be! Not Eugene!

“What?” she asked incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Word for word, verbatim,” the innkeeper assured her.

She was in a confused daze as she stumbled from the inn, walking blindly down the wakening streets of the market town. It made no sense! He’d said that Lance told him that she was his true love, and last night he’d agreed! But today, it was Stalyan again? What was this unpleasant, heavy feeling in her heart? Why did her feet feel like lead? How was she ever supposed to get home without his help? How was she ever supposed to feel at home again without him?

As she plodded, stunned, through the streets, a woman with wavy walnut hair spotted her. Recognizing the woman she’d seen with Horace, she called out, “Wait! You, wait!” But it was market day, and vendors were setting up their stalls, early comers crowding the streets, and the blonde woman was swallowed by the crowd. Gwen jumped as high as she could, over and over, tracked Rapunzel with her eye, and so she could eventually follow behind the forlorn woman as best as she could.

The nearest form of transportation was a bright yellow wagon that she knew belonged to a witch. The woman ought to be awake by now, setting up her stall, but she was still sound asleep. Gwen made sure to lock her into the back part of her wagon, then mounted up in the driver’s seat and took off after the way she’d seen the blonde woman go.

~*~*~

Eugene moved to the side of the house Stalyan’s room was on and picked up a pebble to chuck at her window, just like he always did. But has his hand closed over the rock, he just shook his head and chuckled, dropping it again. He was no longer a boy, and no longer afraid. He didn’t care who knew he’d come to her house so early, he just wanted to get this over with and be on his way back to Rapunzel.

So he went around to the front door and knocked, then stood back. Surprisingly quickly, the door was answered. Equally surprisingly, it was answered by Stalyan herself, still in her nightdress, with a thin robe covering her. As soon as she saw Eugene, her eyes widened and her mouth hung open a little.

“Happy birthday,” Eugene told her with a slight bow and a gentle smile. To him, she was as beautiful as ever, but he knew now that her beauty was only skin-deep. He’d met a woman of true beauty, and Stalyan paled in comparison.

“Eugene…!” she answered, utterly dazzled. She stepped from her stoop and into the morning sunlight towards him. “What happened to you?”

He thought a moment on how to answer, of all the adventures he’d had and everything it had led him to. “I found the Sundrop,” he said after a moment’s pause.

Stalyan looked befuddled, and whether it was because she didn’t remember that he’d said he was going to fetch it, or because she was still shocked by the change that had come over him in so short of time, he couldn’t be sure. Until she opened her mouth. “I can’t believe you did it!” Ah. 

Her violet eyes glinted greedily. “Where’s my Sundrop? Can I see it?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckled. “I mean… I still brought you proof.” He reached into the inside pocket of his plumb jacket, gloved fingers finding the handkerchief containing the little magical flower he’d retrieved from the bathroom floor that morning.

“Is it beautiful?” Stalyan wondered as he fumbled.

Visions of Rapunzel’s beautiful face, beautiful body, beautiful hair, beautiful soul filled his mind’s eye. “Yes,” he told her certainly, and handed the handkerchief to her.

Stalyan eyed the little packet, her expression turning sultry. “Well, it’s not the Sundrop that I want, anyway,” she purred, and draped her arms around his neck, drawing him nearer. “Do you know what I want?”

Eugene searched her face. Those passion-darkened eyes, those full lips, that beauty mark. “Yeah. I do,” he answered softly. He took her into his arms and dipped her down low, every ounce of theatrical romance and drama Lance had taught him bubbling to the surface. Her eyes closed and her lips puckered gently. “You want to grow up and get over yourself,” he informed her under no uncertain terms. Her eyes flew open, a disgruntled noise escaping her, and Eugene grinned winningly, and dropped her rather deliberately on the ground.

As he straightened up again, he noticed Brock at the corner of the house, carrying a rather large wrapped package and staring incredulously. “Brock!” he greeted brightly.

“Fitzherbert,” Brock sneered. “You must have a death wish.” He set the gift down and drew his sword, but Eugene could only smirk. The man had no form whatsoever, and held his sword as though his hand were a wet fish.

So, Eugene unsheathed his own blade, furled it in a bit of showmanship, and took a much more relaxed but solid stance.

Brock stared before uttering a simple, “Ah,” and putting his own sword away. He was used to the people of this town not having a clue how to fight, and he recognized that there was no way he was going to win this duel.

Eugene couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “Brock… Brock, it’s alright. She’s all yours. You two really are perfect for each other. The best of luck to you both.”

Still on the ground, but at least sitting up, Stalyan was unwrapping the little handkerchief. Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would I want this?” she wondered, and balled the handkerchief back up. “It’s just a stupid wilted flower.” And she flung the bit of fabric at Eugene.

He caught it, confused, and opened the kerchief up again to see what she was talking about. Inside, the little flower that had been full of life and magic only a short time ago was now withered and brown, as though it had been dead for a month.

A series of thoughts ran through Eugene’s head as he looked at it: This flower is from Umbra and is infused with magic. Rapunzel is also from Umbra, and is equally infused with it. I told her where I was going this morning, and basically invited her to join me. If she woke up early enough she will, in fact, attempt to come here.

He voiced all this with, “Rapunzel… She can’t cross the wall!” And he took off at a run, as fast as his legs could carry him.

The dire part about this thought process was, he was absolutely right. Though she hadn’t particularly intended to do so, Rapunzel had glumly walked toward the wall and Vardaros, dragging her unbound hair behind her. She supposed she could at least try to find Eugene and ask him how she was supposed to get home now, though even as she walked, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to see him again. Still, her heart, broken as it was, yearned for him. She needed some kind of closure, or else she may never shine again.

She plodded through the meadow, unaware of the mist that clung or the flowers they clung to, barely aware of the wall straight ahead of her. Her spirits were low, lower than low, as she followed the path Eugene had taken not long before her.

Eugene ran, but he wasn’t the only one racing to Rapunzel. On the back of his rhino, Hector rode. Driving the borrowed cart, Gwen was taking corners faster than the wagon could technically handle, and wheels lifted from the road, tossing Calliope around inside like a rag doll. And in her stolen caravan, Gothel raced, tenser and older by the moment.

In a fugue state, Rapunzel approached the wall. She was just picking her way over rubble when she was grabbed from behind.

“Stop!”

The word startled Rapunzel into alertness. It also woke Stan and Pete, both of whom were asleep on the Vardaros side of the wall.

“What?” Rapunzel asked her, utterly confused. Who was this woman?

“If you set foot on human soil, all magic will leave you and you’ll die!” Gwen warned, guiding Rapunzel away from the wall.

Just then, with an angry shout, the door blew off the back of Calliope’s wagon and the witch jumped out. “How dare you!” she demanded, snaring Gwen with a line of silk scarves tied together. “How dare you steal my wagon and abscond with me!”

Gwen yelped in alarm as she was dragged away from Rapunzel.

Just then, Gothel arrived in the caravan, skidding to a stop before them. Alarmed, Calliope dropped the scarves just as Gothel opened the caravan’s door. She smiled a most unpleasant smile at the group of women.

“Planning to enter Vardaros, were you?” she addressed Rapunzel. “If death is what you wish, my dear, I’d be more than happy to assist you.” She stepped from the carriage, hiding her increasing baldness under the hood of her cloak, and swaggered toward Rapunzel.

“Are you talking to me?” Calliope wondered.

Only then did Gothel seem to notice her. “Ah!” she said convivially. “It’s you! What a small world this is! But no, I wasn’t. I was talking to the Sundrop.”

Calliope, who still had Gothel’s curse on her from before, saw nothing but thin air before Gothel. “What Sundrop?” she wondered, looking at Gwen for clarification. But for her part, Guenevier’s eyes were on Rapunzel and Gothel. “This thief here’s no Sundrop, trust me. Any fool can see that.”

Gothel reached out to Rapunzel, stroked greedy fingertips over her chest, completely ignoring the glittering necklace at her breastbone. But she turned her attention to Calliope with a smirk and a dangerous glint in her eye. “Trust you?” she asked. “That’s a mistake I won’t be making again.” And without further warning, she shot a massive blast of green magic at the short witch, which took Calliope’s head right off. During the blast, Rapunzel ran to Gwen, who seemed to be the only person here with her best interest in mind, and everyone missed Stan and Pete peeking through the gap to witness this magical ordeal with utter terror.

Gothel definitely thought the resulting age to her body was worth it to see Calliope’s body run around headless for a few moments before ultimately running into the wall and falling over dead. She laughed even as the other two women cowered together, horrified by what they’d just seen.

As her peals of laughter died down, she strolled back towards the caravan. “Alright, time to go,” she announced.

“She’s not going with you,” Gwen said, placing herself between Gothel and Rapunzel.

“I think you’ll find she is,” Gothel stated. “But don’t fret, you can come, too.” With a gesture, the women found their wrists bound together by Rapunzel’s hair, and no amount of tugging at it would loosen it.

“Now, you can either ride in the caravan or be dragged behind it. It’s your choice, and I frankly don’t care which you choose.”

The two women did the only thing they could, given the option, and got into the conveyance, Gothel right behind them. Once they heard the door shut, Stan peeked through the gap once more.

“Was that… Gwen?” he wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there goes Calliope. I suspect everyone reading this cheered, but I must confess, I like her. XD

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I'm really having fun having Eugene be the overarching narrator, as well as a character in the story (though he wasn't much of one in this chapter).
> 
> Confession: My first pick for the role of Ditchwater Sal was Madame Canardist, but I could not, in good conscience, put her in a fic. So I found someone else to fill that role.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this and are looking forward to the next part!


End file.
